Surviving What I Don't Want
by RobbieYourHeart
Summary: Luck isn't getting what you want; it's surviving what you don't want. And that's what I'm doing, surviving. But not for long. It's time to make my own luck, it's time to guide my own destiny. I came here looking for hope, now I want answers; starting with, who's my dad? What if one of the SGMW doctors has a kid they've never met? Set mid-season 9 *ideally weekly updates on Mondays*
1. Chapter 1

E.J.'s POV

 _Luck isn't getting what you want. It's surviving what you don't want. That's what makes it so hard. Luck isn't some mystical thing to me because I've seen it first hand and been dealt a lot of shitty crap in my life that I never asked for. I don't think luck is real; I can't, because if I did, I'd have to say I have the worst luck in the history of the world._

 _We think being lucky means finding ten bucks on the sidewalk or getting an A on a test we never studied for. But then, what is being unlucky? Is being unlucky being an orphan when you've been abandoned by your mother and not knowing your father? Does being unlucky include being the smartest kid in your class but being held back a year because of an unprecedented amount of absences?_

 _The funny thing is, we usually never get what we ask for. Instead? We get everything else. And that sucks. Because maybe if I asked for cancer it would be a little less painful than when I had obviously not asked for it. Who in their right mind asks for cancer? I know if they knew what it was to be sick and on the verge of death but, with just enough fight left to get to keep trying to evade death, they would never in a million years discover a bump and think, 'oh shit! It must be cancer, that can't be so bad, I've always wanted cancer'._

 _No one who's ever had cancer would wish it on anyone but the people who haven't handled any situation first hand that dealt with cancer wouldn't actually know any better. It's like wishing someone dead. Would you do it if you knew what it meant to be dead?_

 _Cancer. It's not something to be trifled with. It's life or death._

 _So instead of wishing on luck, I say that luck is **not** getting what you want but rather surviving what you don't want, and that's exactly what I'm doing, surviving. _

"Hi. My doctor told me to meet him at the ER desk. Told me to have you page him." I tell the ER nurse at the desk. I notice that the entire place seems to be harried and sporadic. But then again, hospitals are supposed to seem that way. Or at least emergency rooms inside of hospitals are supposed to seem that way.

"Who's your doctor?" the nurse seems nice enough, or at the very least, not rude, but barely spares me a glance before she goes back to typing.

"Dr. Shepherd." I try to sound confident even though I don't feel it. Confidence is key, fake it until you make it, right?

"Which one?" The nurse is now focusing her attention on me; obviously I've caught her attention.

"Oh, yeah. Dr. Derek Shepherd, He's in the neurology department." I smile at her, hoping my request will happen.

"Alright, I'll page him. Why don't you have a seat right over there?" The nurse points to some chairs close to the desk. "I'll tell him you're over there when he gets down here." I nod, pick up my bag and start walking to the chairs before the nurse stops me. "What was your name again sweetheart?"

"EJ." I don't give anything more as I walk to the chairs and make myself comfortable among them, prepared for a sizeable wait, given the busy emergency room.

As I wait for Dr. Shepard, I scan the lobby and ER. There seems to be an overflow of people in the waiting room that mostly keep to themselves. It's hard to really see any of the patients because they almost all have their curtains drawn. I do see a few, but they don't particularly spark my attention. The doctors here are far more entertaining to watch than anyone else anyways.

In the corner I see two doctors, one a small blonde woman, and the other one male and almost in a defensive stance, both in navy scrubs, and bickering like siblings. I can't help wondering what they could be fighting about. It is obvious from their posture that they are related somehow. Maybe siblings wondering who is going to call mom tonight? Or spouses wanting to know who will pick the kids up? No, no, definitely siblings. The hug to make up for whatever squabble they had and the man gives a feather light kiss to the forehead of the women as they rush off in opposite directions.

By the trauma rooms, stands one red-haired, taller man, who is dressed up a bit in a button down shirt, tie and slacks combo and who has a white coat on top and seems to be directing the chaos. I deem him to be the head guy. He seems to be doing a good job of directing the chaos. I can tell by the posture he holds himself with and the serene look on his face in the middle of this emergency room that he is ex-military. There are little cues in his posture – shoulders pulled back and tensed as if he forever carries a heavy backpack, a stiffness that seems to calm him and proceeds all other signs in his posture– but the biggest signal is the way he holds himself at rest. His arms pulled back, right hand grasping his left wrist, it's the same way my last foster father, who was a marine and a decent guy, stood. Eyes set, as if he's forever at attention, but able to exude such power. He ends up rushing off with a gurney that comes in fast from the sliding doors of the ambulance bay, so I keep scanning the room.

By the patient beds there are a lot of doctors in pale blue scrubs. They all seem to be unsure and skittish. I'd have to guess they're new and don't want to mess up. They seem to jump at the doctors' in navy, wanting to impress them. Two stick out to me, a young woman with curly black hair and glasses that seems to know where to go and what to do. She has three others following her around, definitely senior to them. The second who catches my eye is another young woman who holds a bit of fragility to herself; and seems to put up a front of friendly but strict as she conducts a couple of the others. I can tell they will be the most successful in the pack of young doctors. The pack of doctors are directing a play and seem to be doing well enough on their own but lose my interest as quickly as they grabbed it.

Finally, rushing in from the set of sliding doors is a gurney being bossed about by a very small black woman, in the ever present navy scrubs, who seems to be even more powerful than the red headed gentleman. She is definitely the person who is really in charge, and she knows it. They rush off quickly before I really get a chance to really see the small black woman.

I've always found people watching to be fascinating and so much more fun than bringing my own book to read or twiddling my thumbs while I wait. I don't like interacting with people much but they are fun to watch. Only now, I've already scanned the room and found no one left worth watching and I am left to twiddle my thumbs in anxiety.

It is maybe 5 minutes before a tall man with ridiculously wild, but at the same time, in place, hair in the ever present navy scrubs is directed my way by the nurse at the desk. I can only assume this is Dr. Shepherd.

"Didn't know I had a patient named EJ." Dr. Shepherd starts out with before I get a chance to stand up to greet him correctly. "Dr. Derek Shepherd," he sticks his hand out, as if waiting for a handshake. "Can I ask why someone who is clearly not my patient has had the head nurse page me to the ER?" He puts his hand in his pocket when he realizes I am making no move to shake it.

"Yeah, about that, I was actually referred to you by my doctor back home." I tell him, omitting that he's likely never heard of my doctor. He seems surprised that I've come prepared for the line he has given me.

"Okay EJ. Let's go somewhere a little more private to discuss this then." Dr. Shepherd leads me out of the ER, down a corridor and into a conference room. Inside, I take a seat as he does and I pull my file from my backpack and slide it across the table to him.

"Recurrence of a choroid plexus carcinoma, stage 3." I start with as he opens the file.

"When was the initial diagnosis?" He seems to be asking the generic pre-requisite questions, no give away of emotion yet.

"March 16th, 2009. We treated with removal of the tumor, 6 rounds of intensive chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant. The recurrence was first discovered on my 3-year scans, October 8th, 2013. 11 days ago. It's all there in the file."

I see a moment of shock on his face before he schools it away to keep looking through the file and I continue in a rambling fashion. "Everyone in the field says the reoccurrence is inoperable. Dr. King, my primary doctor, said she knows of only one neuro guy who would even consider going near it. You. I thought I'd try my luck and see if you'd, at the very least, consult on my case." I tell him as he begins looking through all the papers from my medical files. "As I'm sure you know, it's highly aggressive and fatal if not treated quickly and aggressively. I came here wanting you to try. This is going to kill me if I don't try, and I'd rather die trying."

I see Dr. Shepherd has his brow furrowed as if in deep concentration as he looks at the scans. He lifts the latest CT, from two weeks ago, to look at and his frown deepens. "Who'd you say referred you again?" He keeps looking at the scans as he talks.

"Dr. Rachael King, she's a pediatric oncologist at New York Children's. Said if I wanted a chance of beating it I needed the best and that you're the best. Said you're the only neurosurgeon she thinks would go anywhere near it." I kept my eyes steadily trained on him to convey the sincerity of my trust. The trust I feel about him taking on my case in the experimental capacity it requires.

At that, Dr. Shepherd puts the films down to really look at me for the first time. "How old are you kid?"

"14 as of 5 days ago, sir." I try my hardest to be the politest, most thoughtful and insightful kid he's ever met.

"And where are your parents? Shouldn't they be here with you?" He has his eyebrow crooked up, knowing a 14 year old coming from their doctor in New York to a doctor in Seattle all on his own is near impossible, much less with a fist-sized tumor taking up residency in the back of their head and in 11 days.

I know the pity I will get, the pity I hate, but I go ahead and pull the trigger anyways. "Never met my dad, mom split when I was 10."

I see the sadness in his eyes before I hear it in his voice. "Then who's in charge of you?"

"No one." Ashamed, I look down.

"What do you mean no one? Someone's got to be in charge of you. Grandparents? A sibling?" Dr. Shepherd seems almost pained at the turn in events.

"I ain't got anyone. I was a foster kid until I left to come here." Dr. Shepherd lowers his gaze and won't make eye contact with me anymore. I know that I may have lost my one shot, and move to snatch my file and leave. But I stop myself momentarily.

"Look, I don't have any money; I definitely don't have insurance or even more than $44.35 to my name. But I do have a will to live and I do have my files. I came here cause you're the only person who can save me. I know it's a lot to take on. It's a tough tumor; tell that to the kid living with it." He looks up at me when I say this, so I know I've hit a sore spot.

"I'm just a kid, who can't pay you or give you someone to file an insurance claim with even, but I am a kid. What would you do if I were your kid? Wouldn't you fight to the end of the earth to get the best possible medical care for me? Wouldn't you fight to make sure I got a shot to fight the damn cancer? I need someone who can fight for me. Because I've been trying but its hard when you've been sentenced to a painful death within the next 4 months because of a tumor you never asked for that is taking up residence in your head and you don't have parents who love you and tell you its alright. I know its not all right, I just turned 14 and I'm staring down death. Let me tell you, I am scared to death and I have been since that moment nearly two weeks ago when my 3-year scans didn't come back clean like they were supposed to. I'm 14 and sentenced to death and I need your help to change that."

There's a long pause after I let that all out. Dr. Shepherd is back to not looking me in the eye. I can sense the pity radiating off of him for me. I hate bringing the 'I'm just a kid' card to the table but I can sense it will help my case and help him to see me as a patient. I can tell it will help to get him to take me on.

"Ok EJ. I'll see what I can do. But you're right. At first glance, it does look bad. But I will never call a tumor inoperable as long as I have a patient willing to fight. Lets get you admitted so I can run some more tests, okay?" Dr. Shepard has hope in his eyes. His words may not say it, but I can see it.

"All I'm asking is for you to try." I tell him, feeling the smallest smile creep on my face.

We get up and go back to the desk in the ER and the same nurse is still sitting there typing feverishly. I see the ER has calmed down some but its still a very fast paced environment and the fluorescent lights are still really hurting my head. I have to shake my head and rub my eyes to clear my vision.

However, my vision only gets blurrier and the pounding gets worse. I lean against the counter heavily, trying to take deep breaths to clear my head as it feels like I can't breathe.

"EJ, you all right?" Dr. Shepherd turns towards me and puts his hand on my shoulder to try and straighten my posture so he can see my face. "Geez, you're really pale."

As quickly as it came, the headache is gone and the pain recedes to the back of my mind, as I am able to stand on my own two feet without the support of the counter and breathe normally once again.

"Yeah. Just a bit dizzy and nauseous." I tell him quickly. I take a step back so that his arm falls limply to his side.

"Ok. Let me know if that changes, all right. If I'm going to be your doctor, you're going to have to be honest with me, even when you feel like shit, okay?" He looks skeptical but pushes on. "We need to fill these forms out to the best of your knowledge. I'll help, okay?"

I nod as he leads me back to the conference room and I slump in the same chair as before. The pain is gone but the weakness lingers. These headaches always end the same and I will crash sooner rather than later. As we begin on the forms Dr. Shepherd tries to offer me the clipboard. I shake my head and lean back in the chair, hoping he gets the hint that I'll talk and he can write. I figure by any rate Dr. Shepherd will have better handwriting than me, I've never been able to write well and the last 5 years have deteriorated the already crappy scrawl.

"Alright, lets start simple. Full name." Dr. Shepherd has his pen poised over the form and is leaning forward in his seat.

I am quick and blunt, "EJ."

"Going to at least need a last name to go with that EJ." I see him looking through my files for my full name.

"I'm not giving you my last name till I know I can trust you not to call Child Protective Services. And don't bother looking through the file, I already blacked my name from everything, I'm smarter than I look."

"Alright," I can see a hint of a smile on his face. "Can I at least know what the letters EJ stand for?"

"Maybe when you've proven that I can trust you. For now, EJ is all you get."

He looks frustrated but moves on. "Okay, how about a birthdate?"

"October 3rd, 1999."

We go on like that for 20 more minutes before we have a halfway filled out admit form. The exhaustion has almost overpowered all my senses but we have to get up and go back to the ER desk to finish the admit process.

The Emergency Room is much more subdued when we go to the desk this time. I only see the brown haired man in navy scrubs that was bickering with the blonde woman left. He is standing at the desk filing out some kind of paperwork. Dr. Shepherd walks at a much faster pace than I have the energy for right now, so he gets to the desk first and starts talking to the nurse and the brown haired guy before I'm in ear shot.

I decide it's not worth eavesdropping because I feel like I'm about to drop. The headache is still only minor, a glossed over detail that is a part of having a brain tumor at this point. More pressing is the nausea I had thought disappeared with the headache earlier. Instead I am now faced with an overpowering need to vomit and a desire to collapse into a bed and sleep it all off.

The next best thing is a wheelchair stationed across the hallway from the desk. I decide that it'll do and promptly plop down in the chair, trying to catch the breath I didn't know I'd lost and trying even harder to not vomit.

From my vantage point I see Dr. Shepherd and the brown haired man in what looks to be a spirited discussion. I figure it's probably about me due to the gesturing in my direction.

Before I can really ponder who the gentleman is, a nurse with extremely overpowering perfume buzzes past me. It's only a moment of collision, but I'm already so nauseous and it's so much easier to just let go. So I allow the bile to rise up and out from my stomach to paint the hallway's floor and the nurse with the awful perfume's shoes and pants. The vomiting is brief but still leaves my forehead feeling sweaty and an even deeper exhaustion in my bones. I lean back and see Dr. Shepherd and the brown haired man, a few nurses and orderlies all rushing at me and the unlucky nurse I've used for target practice.

In all honesty though, she deserved it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey everyone! So, I'm liking the positive reaction to this story and I hope everyone is ready for the ride of their life with it! A couple notes, first, I wasn't ever clear on the timeline of when Bailey was born, so we're going to pretend his due date is in March. Sound good? But this is set mid-season 9. Also, this is in fact MerDer, for those of you who were asking. It'll become more clear as we progress and the characters EJ has described are identified. And on that note, keep in mind EJ doesn't know these characters like we do, so he is making his own assumptions and judgments, he will continue to do so throughout the story. He doesn't have the full story so it sometimes will seem harsh and unfair. And he is a kid, so we're looking at everything through a different lens when it's his point of view. And, on that note, the chapters will switch POVs. Odd numbered chapters belong to EJ and even numbered chapters belong to Derek, but I'll make sure to mark them to avoid confusion.**

 **Also, thank you to Lexbex1126, shawnakat1, Gina and Guest for the reviews. It means a lot that you guys took the time to do it, and it's helped motivate me to update in a timely fashion. I hope you like this chapter!**

 **-R**

Derek's POV:

"Have you ever considered knocking up your wife to be a bad idea?" Alex is leaned against the counter and hunched over paperwork that he's clearly not focused on. He has that tale-tell smirk on his face but the tone of his voice suggests he's not amused.

"What? Can't take a hormonal Mer?" I can't help but smile, he has obviously done something to upset her. I look down at the iPad to focus on EJ's paperwork and entering him into the system.

"Oh, I can. I'm just not sure the rest of the hospital can. I mean, she's only halfway through the pregnancy and already irritable as all get out." I can't help but smirk at this, he has no idea, truly. "I'm just not sure that you knocking her up was a good idea. I mean, we've still got 20 weeks of it and she'll be even worse once the kid arrives and you guys are both sleep deprived."

"We weren't that bad after we got custody of Zola" I try to defend but get interrupted before I can argue it.

"Yeah but Zola was almost 1 and already sleeping through the night. Not to mention Mer hadn't been all over the place with hormones and all the other pregnancy crap. Adopting an almost 1 year old and having a newborn are entirely different ball parks."

"Alright then. I'll keep your thoughts in mind the next time we decide to procreate. Wouldn't want to inconvenience the great Alex Karev, now would we?"

"Thanks man." Alex is sarcastic as ever, but his remarks aren't on my radar, not really. I'm too preoccupied with my new case to truly be worried about his thoughts on a hormonal Meredith and the concept of a new baby. Alex however seems to be looking for an excuse to chat and avoid work more than to vent about Meredith and whatever he's done to be scolded by her.

My thoughts are interrupted by Alex motioning to behind me and asking, "Hey, who's the kid?"

I turn my head in the direction Alex has gestured to and see EJ making himself comfortable in a wheelchair about 10 feet behind me, a little pale for what I'd normally like to see but I don't know him well enough yet to know if it's nerves or his natural skin tone or that he's not feeling well. My gut says it's nerves, he's trying to come to terms with the fact that I care and I'm not going to give up on him. It's probably the first time anyone has believed in him, and it's more sad than anything.

"Oh, yeah, his name's EJ. He was a consult and I think I'll be taking him on as a case. We're getting him admitted now for further studies." I don't bother watching for Alex's reaction as I continue working to enter him in the system and getting everything ready.

Before Alex can prod anymore, I hear the tell-tale sound of retching. I spin around on my heels to see EJ hunched over in the wheelchair he had commandeered and painting one of the nurses with whatever he last ate. It only takes Alex and I half a second to respond and jump to their aide.

Looking at the nurse, I can tell she's pissed by the steam that's practically billowing from her ears. I opt to ignore her rather than engage her, kid trumps nurse, always, as shown by the fact that everyone within the vicinity has stopped to make sure he's okay, and have pushed the nurse to the back.

EJ is still vomiting, so rather than bombard him with questions, I check the vomit and almost shrink back in relief- no blood. I figure the best thing would be to comfort him and its clear Alex has decided that's the best course of action as well, already rubbing soft circles on his back. I always knew Alex had a soft spot for kids, but it's more pronounced now than ever. Rather than overcrowd EJ, I motion for the extra people to carry-on with their original tasks. I see one of the interns step to the nurses' desk, while the other nurses and interns walk away so that it is just Alex, EJ and me left near the mess. Even the nurse who got puked on walks away- a sour look still painting her features.

It only takes a few more moments for his retching to stop and become more dry-heaving than anything, and I help him to lean back into the wheelchair, pulling the ball cap he had been wearing off his head as I see the sweat drizzling on his forehead. I push the matted blond hair that's stuck to his face up, and, in the process, can feel that he does not have a fever without telling him that's what I'm checking for.

"How are you feeling EJ?" I ask, trying to continue assessing him without being overbearing.

"Not great." He gives me a small smile, and I can tell, it's obviously not too bad since he can joke. "Pretty tired. Would you think I was a little kid for wanting to take a nap?" The innocence in his eyes and voice break my heart.

"Not at all, I just need you to stay awake a couple more minutes okay?" He gives a slight nod of his head and I turn to see the intern who was stood by earlier, Dr. Edwards, with a bottle of red Gatorade and a damp wash rag. I smile at her and take the items. I help EJ to wipe his face a bit of the sweat and to cool the flush that has overtaken his face, then let him take over, resting it on the back of his neck. "I need you to take a few sips, okay?" I crack the Gatorade open and help him hold it steady so he can take a sip.

"How'd you know red was my favorite?" EJ looks up at Dr. Edwards, a small smile working its way onto his face.

"Red's my favorite too. And it doesn't leave a mysterious after-vomit taste like the others," Dr. Edwards gives him a wink and has EJ smiling genuinely now.

"Right? The nurses always gave me yellow or blue, it was like they didn't know that it leaves an awful after-taste. I would even ask for red and they'd still bring every other flavor!"

I like that Dr. Edwards has him coming out of his shell, so I motion for her to keep talking with him and for Alex to stay with them while I finish the last of the paperwork process. I can tell EJ is completely exhausted but trying to stay awake like I asked.

It's no more than 5 minutes before I'm done and walking back over with a wrist band for EJ and a peds room assignment.

Dr. Edwards looks up at me when I walk over, and I can see an apologetic look on her face when she speaks up. "I'm on Dr. Grey's service today, so I need to get going."

I nod, but EJ interrupts, "Can't you stay Steph?" I raise my eyebrow at this and wonder how Dr. Edwards could break EJ's tough exterior so easily. "You can help me bug the nurses! Or I'll even share my red Gatorade with you!" He has his hand outstretched with a half-finished bottle of the drink.

"Sorry buddy, I have to go be a doctor. But how about I come find you later, okay?" EJ looks solemn but nods. I can see it pains her to have to leave him. "I promise, okay? You don't want me to get in trouble, do you?"

"No, but," EJ starts, but runs his hand through his hair when he can't come up with a good excuse for her to get in trouble for hanging out with him instead. He's staring up at us with his little almond eyes, shining in disappointment.

"No buts, okay? I'll be back, and you can tell me the rest of your story and if you're good for Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev then I'll tell you one of mine, sound good?"

"Alright." EJ clams up and I almost want to ask Edwards to stay, but I know that I won't have any surgeries for her to scrub in on like Meredith surely does. "But who's Dr. Karev?"

We all can't help but laugh at this. "It's me buddy, I'm Dr. Karev." Alex tells EJ, who looks up at him with his mouth cracked open.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. What kind of doctor are you?" I motion for Edwards to leave while we have EJ's attention.

"Well what kind of doctor do you think I am?" Alex picks up EJ's two bags and keeps talking to him while I finish securing the identification band to his wrist and begin pushing him towards the elevator.

"I know you're a surgeon because you have the same scrubs as Dr. Shepherd, but I don't think you're a brain surgeon."

"And why not?" Alex acts offended as he hits the elevator call button but I know neurology never did interest him as a resident.

EJ makes me want to laugh with his answer. "Because I've met a lot of them and your personality doesn't match."

"And what personality is that?" I butt into the conversation as the elevator doors shut and we begin moving to the 4th floor, where peds is.

EJ looks pensive for a minute before he answers. "It's hard to describe. But it's like when you walk in the room it's like you own the room AND you know it. It's like you think you're in charge because you mess around in people's heads."

"Ok, so if I'm not a neurosurgeon, then what do you think I am?" The elevator arrives and we step on as Alex turns to keep speaking with the boy.

"Well, I'd say you're a plastic surgeon cause you seem like you like to pick on your friends and the only plastic surgeon I've ever met was like that." EJ pauses for a second and I can imagine Alex's retort, but EJ continues before Alex can defend himself. "But, you also seem like you're good with kids, because you're being nice and funny with me and it looks like you're on my case, which means that you'd have to be a pediatric surgeon. So, my guess is that you're a pediatric surgeon."

"Well then, you're a very observant person EJ, because you're right, I am a pediatric surgeon. And I am going to work with Dr. Shepherd on your case. If that's okay with you, of course."

It looks like EJ is considering his answer carefully as we leave the elevator and begin walking through the peds department. "Are you good? Cause I need someone good."

"I'm one of the best." Alex smirks when I roll my eyes at him.

We take a right turn before we enter the room he's assigned to and I put the brakes on his chair. EJ stands up to look at Alex in the doorway, and moves to take his backpack from Alex and to snatch his ball cap from my hands. "Okay, you can stick around."

By the end of the day, EJ is sound asleep in frayed blue plaid pajamas he had in his duffle bag that he insisted on wearing as opposed to the standard peds hospital pajamas, and all the tests I needed for a full assessment are done, so I pull Alex into a conference room with me to look over everything.

I begin setting all the scans up, putting them up on the screens around the room. Alex flops into a chair and is reading part of his chart and speaking. "Hey, where are the kid's parents? I haven't seen anyone come up looking for him at all today."

I pause for a moment and take a deep breath before explaining the situation. "He doesn't have any. He told me he ran away from his foster family." Alex looks up at me and sets the papers he was reading down, giving me his undivided attention. "He said that he knew his foster parents were just going to give up when the neuro guy at New York Children's said the tumor was inoperable. He said he knew that I was the guy for inoperable tumors so he ran away and came to find me to see if I'd take him on. I sat with EJ for over an hour this morning, but he's staying strong on that point. All I know is that he's 14 years old, his mom abandoned him when he got sick and he never met his father. He isn't ready to even tell us what the letters E and J stand for, much less his last name because he doesn't want to give up. And he thinks that's what he'll have to do if CPS takes over his case again."

I can see the sorrow in Alex's eyes as he asks, "well, aren't you at least going to call CPS? Let them know you have a mystery kid? You could get in trouble for not notifying them."

"I want a plan first. I want to show him that I have a plan and that I'm not giving up before we call them in. We need him to trust us, so that when I call them, I can tell him that I'm not giving up, that I'll keep treating him for as long as he wants me to do so; for as long as he needs me to."

"Alright, well, what have we got?" Alex nods his head, confirming that he'll go along with my shotgun plan.

I zoom in on the brain scans and motion for Alex to join me in front of them. I point out the tumor as I talk. "The tumor is located primarily in the temporal lobe but it has spread to include a small portion of the motor cortex in the frontal lobe." I point both sections of the tumor out to him. "While it is concerning that there is a portion in the motor cortex, it normally wouldn't concern me too much because it's so minor and EJ is 14. Any lost motor function would ideally be recoverable. Normally, I would just go in, dissect as much as possible and treat the rest with high dose chemotherapy and radiation." I sigh at this.

"Why can't you do that?"

"There are three major concerns, first, look here." I pull up the more detailed brain scans and point to the bottom area as I zoom in. "There's a small part that is slowly encroaching on the brain stem. Now, the MRI shows that it is still operable at this time. It's a massive and nasty tumor, one of the worst kinds of brain tumors, but it hasn't actually touched the brain stem yet." I point to the area next to the tumor, "can you see that dark spot right there?" Alex nods and I continue explain. "It's about 2 centimeters of separation from the brain stem."

"So the New York Children's doctors were wrong? It is operable."

"Well they were not entirely wrong. It is still a highly dangerous tumor. I mean, it is massive, and it has little tendrils instead of clean edges, so it will be hard to get clean margins."

"But you'd be willing to operate?"

"Well, there are still a few more problems. The second thing is the results of the spinal tap. It's metastasized. And here," I pass him the full body MRI, "there's a second tumor that is wrapped around his kidneys and liver. And the last problem is the history. It's a reoccurrence. He was 10 when he was first diagnosed, and 4 years ago it was just a tumor in the temporal lobe, and it was much smaller." I pull the original scans from EJ's chart for Alex to compare with, pointing out the tumor on it. "They removed it, treated with chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant and he was in remission for three years."

Alex is left speechless by my assessment.

"My other problem is when we compare the scans. EJ said that the scans he brought were only 13 days old. Look at the growth between the two scans." I pull out the scan from the chart for comparison.

Alex looks confused, "I don't really know what I'm looking at."

"Okay, here pass me the scan from 13 days ago." When I have it in my hands, I overlay the older scan with the newer scan."

A look of realization passes over Alex's face. "There's virtually no growth."

"Exactly." I toss the older scan on the table and flop into a chair, running my hands tirelessly through my hair and over my face, wishing for a different result.

"I don't get it. Why is it a problem that there hasn't been any growth? Shouldn't that be good news?"

"Normally it would be fantastic news. With Choroid Plexus Carcinoma, the reason it's so deadly is that it grows alarmingly fast and it a nasty bugger that doesn't respond well to only chemo. It's such a rare form of brain tumor that there's not a lot of research on the treatment of it. The problem I have is that given the size of the tumor, EJ would have been experiencing symptoms– headaches, fever, vomiting, malaise for a while, especially given the location of the tumor and where it is pressing. But also, even if he wasn't experiencing symptoms for some reason, the growth rate of the tumor indicates that his last set of scans- the 2 year and 9 month scans taken in July should've shown a growth, even if it was minor, it would've still been only slightly smaller than the original tumor, and since it originated from almost the exact same spot as the first tumor, the entire temporal area on the left side would've been tagged as the area most prone to reoccurrence and it should've been caught earlier."

I can see Alex is starting to fit some of the pieces together, "what do you mean by that?"

I rub my face once again and sigh deeply. "I think someone messed up. Either a technician made a mistake or the scans weren't properly assessed, something. I have to hope it's something like that because the alternative is that his doctors in New York sentenced him to death by ignoring the growth. Because there is no way this tumor wasn't present three months ago."

 **Another turn in the story… let me know your thoughts, and we'll hear from EJ next week. Fingers crossed I can stay on top of updating this story weekly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry this was delayed. I almost forgot how bad a combination jet lag and exhaustion make. I slept off and on for nearly 24 hours when we got back Sunday night, and I'm still delirious with exhaustion– perks of having way too much fun while visiting family in Europe. So, sorry for making you guys wait! The response to this story is nuts! And I love it! I'm setting a goal for myself to write one chapter a week and to post once a week on the weekends. We are going to try this and see how it works. But as you guys can see from this week, it's not always possible for me to make the deadline I have set for myself, so when that does happen, I'll post the chapter as soon as I can. And maybe if you guys are extra nice I'll throw in some extra updates as little pick-me-ups sporadically.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! It's a great motivation.**

 **-R**

EJ's POV:

 _Growing up with only my mom was hard. When it got tough my mom always told me 'tough times don't last, but tough people do.' We were always strapped for cash and we never had enough. Mom couldn't hold down a job for more than six months, so it was always a guessing game of not if, but when. When would we be evicted next? When would we be able to buy shoes without holes and food? When would we end up on the streets? When would the rug be pulled out from under our feet and when would we be scrambling pick up the pieces once again?_

 _The first time I truly knew how bad the situation was, was when I started kindergarten. I was 4 years old, just a few short weeks shy of 5 and one of the youngest in the class. It was weird to see all these kids who were so much bigger than me but were only a few months older. It was strange to see kids who wore new clothes, and had moms and dads, and who didn't have shoes held together with duct tape. Mom had always told me it was something all the cool kids did, but on my first day of kindergarten, I knew she was just protecting me from the truth._

 _No one else needed duct tape to keep their shoes from falling apart and no one else wore three shirts when it started to get cold because their parents couldn't afford to splurge on a coat that wasn't three sizes too small. No one else would sit by themselves at the end of the lunch table, embarrassed because while everyone else ate lunch, they had nothing but a water bottle to drink sparingly._

 _I remember my teachers being worried but unable to really help. I remember the day Child Protective Services were called for the first time, when it was snowing right before winter break and I didn't have a coat or a hat or mittens. I remember it wasn't the first time I had weathered freezing cold temperatures to go to school and it wasn't the first time I had to sit out of recess because of my lack of winter appropriate clothing. But it was the first time I came to school with a black eye and a split lip. It was the first time I met my social worker, a sweet younger woman who told me to call her Samantha because Ms. Keller made her feel old. It was the first time I understood that my worries about not if but when weren't supposed to be there._

 _I remember I was 5 when I went to my first foster home– a nice family of four, the Cohens, who had two girls, Emily who was 10, and Marie who was 8. I remember it was a nice enough home, and I ended up spending Christmas with them. I was with them for a month before my mom could petition the courts for me to go back to her custody. The family was good to me and made me feel safe and protected and loved. I didn't have to worry about where my next meal would come from or if I'd be on the streets when we got evicted. I had a family who cared and who went out of their way to buy presents for me for Christmas that year even though I had only been with them for 2 weeks at that point._

 _Not all the foster families I would cycle through in the next three and a half years would do that. The state gave foster families a stipend to help with extra costs for the children but it wasn't enough to give me such a nice holiday as they did. I know they splurged on me and tried to give me a great Christmas. It was the only one I had at that point that I had ever celebrated with more than a trip to mass. They got me a bunch of books and clothes and even a few toys. I cried and said thank you so many times that day. I remember being completely shocked when I left them to go back to living with my mother and they packed all the presents I had been given and told me they were mine forever. I remember finding clothes that were a size too big and some that were meant for warmer weather when I went home with my mother and I knew. I instinctively knew that they knew. They knew I was going back into a tough situation and they wanted to help. They knew I would end up needing those clothes._

 _They didn't know I would wear the clothes I had been given until they were literally rags and falling apart. They didn't know that within three months I would be back in a new foster home, wishing I could've been placed with them once again. They didn't know my mom would get a DUI and have to go to court-ordered rehab and I would end up in a new foster home, one where there were 4 other kids who were all teenagers and whose parents weren't as nice, one where the parents were strict and no nonsense and who would never have spent their own money on presents for me. They didn't know I'd live with the new family for 7 weeks before my mom got back from rehab and I was returned to her care. They wouldn't know the clothes they had gifted me would be all I'd have to wear that summer with my mom and the following winter when I was placed in yet another foster home._

 _I have been in way too many foster homes, so many that they all blend together at this point. But I remember that first one crystal clear. I remember leaving that home wishing I could've stayed, wishing I could have had that family forever when I was shuffled around throughout the years, my mom only pulling it together for short stretches of time before I had to move and try a new placement out until she could pull it together again. I can't decide if I hate my mom for giving me up when I was 10 or if I'm grateful that she did. But her little motto will always remain deep in my heart– tough times don't last, but tough people do– and I am a tough person._

"What's up doc?" When I see the expression on Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev's faces I know it isn't going to be good news. Instead of prolonging the torment with pleasantries I jump right in "Why the long face?" I sigh because I know the answer, I know that it was a Hail Mary to come here and ask him to approach a tumor I had been told would be inoperable. "It's not good, is it? The tumor spread, didn't it?"

Dr. Shepherd can't look me in the eye as he says, "yes, the cancer has metastasized. There is a second tumor wrapped around your abdomen and evidence of it in your spinal cord."

I gulp and look to Dr. Karev, hoping he doesn't look and sound as downtrodden as Dr. Shepherd is at the prospect of my scans, "how bad?"

"Well," Dr. Karev tries to stall, I can see it in his eyes that he doesn't want to tell me the truth, that he wishes he could soften the blow in any number of ways. "It's not good. Here, I'll show you." Dr. Karev steps up to my hospital bed and perches himself next to my feet. He types something on his iPad and shows me my full body scans. "See the white? That's your tumor, and those black bits? Those are your kidneys. Its wrapped around them. And there's a little bit wrapping around your liver here," Dr. Karev points to various points on the zoomed in scan of my abdomen and watches my face to make sure I understand.

I nod, and swallow the uprising fear at the prospect of it being advanced. I turn to Dr. Shepherd. "What about the brain tumor? Is it operable?"

"Right now, yes, I'm willing to operate on it. But we only have a short window before it will grow to a point where I cannot operate." He tells me, looking a little bit hopeful, but not nearly enough, as he steps closer to where I am perched on my hospital bed, legs crisscrossed under me.

I nod and take a moment to let that sink in. I choose to push the negative to the back of my mind until later and focus on the little bit of hope Dr. Shepherd has given me. "So what's the game plan? Surgery, chemo? What do you got on tap for me?"

Dr. Shepherd sighs and takes a seat where Dr. Karev had gotten up from. "It's not going to be like last time EJ. We are on the defensive now. We are behind the cancer right now." He pauses for a second and runs a hair through the crazy hair on his head that is sticking every-which-way. "Do you like sports EJ?"

I'm confused at the direction, but I go along with it. "Baseball, I like baseball. But what does it matter?"

Dr. Shepherd's face lights up a little and he keeps going. "What's your favorite team?"

"Red Sox," I tell him, but then amend my statement to say, "but I've never been to a game. We never had the money for tickets."

"Really? You're a Yankee and you don't even like them?" I think Dr. Shepherd ignores the second half of my admission.

"Nah, the Sox are so much better." I can't help but laugh a little at the incredulity on his face.

I can tell we are becoming fast friends as Dr. Shepherd tries to not so subtly to put in his own two cents. "You know, I'm a huge Yankee fan. My dad took me to a bunch of their games when I was a kid."

"That's okay, we can still be friends, you like the Red Sox Dr. Karev, right?" I look to Dr. Karev to back me up in my assertion of the Red Sox being the best baseball team of all time.

"Of course! The Yankees are too easy a choice. I like the challenge the Red Sox pose with being a fan." I can't help but look at Dr. Shepherd in victory.

He backs off knowing it's a losing battle and moves on. "Alright so let's get back on track. We can discuss more baseball later and both you guys can explain your awful choice in team." I nod in the affirmative, smirking at how Dr. Shepherd is trying to joke around. "So, it's like this. Us, we're the Red Sox, and your cancer? It's the Yankees. It's one of the fiercest rivalries in all of baseball, right?"

I can't help but laugh. "Well yeah. Everyone knows that!"

"Alright, so it's us vs. cancer and it's the same fierce rivalry. We're the underdogs, but we're better, smarter, faster and we're primed to win. So, it's like this, we are on the defensive not the offensive this time. We are going to attack, and were going to attack hard, but it's because we are trying to play catch up right now." He tells me but loses me because telling me we are playing defense doesn't tell me what the plan is.

"Okay, so then what does that matter? What's the plan?" I want a straight forward answer.

"We're going to start by removing the brain tumor. That's the game plan for the first inning. Then we'll see where we are, but chemo and most likely radiation to make sure we get it all will be for our second inning. We'll be using the chemo to soften the edges on the abdominal tumor as well before we do a second surgery to remove that tumor which will be the third inning. And then the fourth inning will be more chemo and more radiation. We will end with a stem cell transplant as the fifth inning, but that's a long way off. We have a long road ahead of us." Dr. Shepherd tells me and I see Dr. Karev nodding along.

"Alright, when are we doing the first surgery then?" I shift to pull my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as a chill runs down my spine.

"Tomorrow morning." Dr. Shepherd is straight to the point. "We are also going to take the chance to place a central line for your medications while you're under that way we can administer the chemo when it comes time for that."

I nod along to Dr. Shepherd's plan and only ask one question. "Can we shave my head tonight?" Both doctors look at me with raised eyebrows so I continue, "I always wanted a Mohawk and I know you have to shave my head for surgery, so can we give me a Mohawk before you cut my brain open?"

Both men chuckle and Dr. Karev says, "Sure EJ. We can give you a Mohawk."

"Awesome!" but the somber looks on their faces tell me there's something more.

As if Dr. Shepherd can read my thoughts, he brings up one more crucial point. "EJ, we've proven to you that we are going to help. Dr. Karev and I, we are going to fight for you. We are prepared to help you fight this cancer, okay? We promise you that we aren't going anywhere. Okay?" I nod, having an inkling of where this is going. "We've proven that you can trust us. We need you to take leap of faith with us, okay?"

I nod and Dr. Karev takes up with where Dr. Shepherd left. "But EJ, we can't keep shielding you from CPS. We have to let them know you're here. We could lose our jobs if we don't notify them that you're here. Okay? I know it sucks, trust me, I know more than you think. But we have to call them. Okay?"

I want to scream and yell, but I settle on a deadly soft whisper. "No, we had a deal." I let my voice raise in anger. They are going to betray me! I turn to Dr. Shepherd with ice cold eyes. "We had a deal Dr. Shepherd! You promised you wouldn't call CPS on me." My voice cracks and I let tears slip from my eyes. "You promised."

I want to cry but I don't. I plow on and tear into Dr. Karev, staring him down with a deadly gaze. "How can you say you understand? Have you been shuffled around nearly your entire life, never really had a home? Did you ever have to wonder when your next meal was and where it would come from, or if there would be an eviction notice on your door every time you walked home from school?" I see pity in Dr. Karev's eyes, but I know I need to nail my point into his thick skull for him to get it.

"I was with placed in 9 different families from when I was 5 until I was 9 because mom couldn't seem to hold down a job so she could keep custody of me. It always felt like she didn't care, not really. If she cared about me she would've tried harder. She finally could hang onto me when I was 9 but I got sick when I was 10 and she left." I can't look him in the eyes as I continue. "I was recovering from brain surgery but mom didn't care. She couldn't deal with me being sick. So, one morning, I woke up and she was just gone, she signed away her parental rights and I was officially a ward of the state. I lived in the hospital for 9 months because no one wants a sick foster child. I fought this all alone before, I can do it again. After I got better, I went to 14 placements in 4 years. That has to be some kind of a record. No one wanted me. No one wants me. So, Dr. Karev, how can you understand?" I look back up to him, my vision blurred with tears.

Dr. Karev seems unsure but he ends up telling me, "because I was in the system too. I didn't have a brain tumor, but I had a lot of placements too." He takes a deep breath and keeps going after a moments hesitation. "And I know CPS sucks, trust me. But we have to let them know you're here and safe. We're not giving up, but we have to let them know we have you so they can stop looking."

I get it, but that doesn't leave me feeing any better about having to have CPS have control of my life again. "You promise you'll still help me beat the cancer?"

Dr. Karev smiles at me and sticks his hand out for me with his pinky raised. "Pinky promise." I like the determination in his voice.

"I'm a little old for that." I can't help but smile as he looks slightly offended.

"No one is ever too old for a pinky promise. Come on. It doesn't count if you don't join in." he sticks his hand closer to mine and smiles as I hook my pinky with his.

"Fine." I can't help but chuckle a bit at his over exaggerated pinky shake.

Dr. Shepherd's eyes light up as I keep laughing. "Great." He says, "Okay we will see you in the morning, alright? Get some good rest EJ."

The following morning, after a guy who said his name was Dr. Ross but that if I was good I could call him Shane, came by and shaved my blond locks into a Mohawk. Dr. Ross took me down to the OR. He chattered aimlessly and bored me to death, but I pretended to listen as a curtesy. I nod and give noncommittal grunts when necessary. But I don't really know what he is blabbering on about.

When we roll into the OR, I see Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev, and I let some of the tension in my shoulders go. I help move myself from the gurney to the operating table and I try to take deep breaths as reality sinks in again. The cancer is back, but Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev are ready to help me fight it.

I guess Dr. Shepherd sees my nerves and leans down to talk to me. "EJ, I know you're probably scared, more scared than I could ever know. But it's okay to be scared. Do you like quotes? I saw you have a lot of books, so you must like to read. Do you have a favorite quote?"

I look skeptically at him, thinking he's trying to trick me. But he carries on. "How about if I tell you a secret first?" I nod and Dr. Shepherd keeps going, pulling the blanket I had settled at my hips up and over my shoulder as if he's tucking me in. I can't help but wonder if he has kids. I can see a wedding band on his finger, so I know he's married but I don't know a lot about him.

"I'm superstitious. I won't step on cracks for fear of hurting someone I love and I don't walk under ladders no matter how much distance it will cut and I have rituals before surgery. I have said it before every single surgery I've ever done, but usually the patients are asleep before I say it. Do you want to know what I say?" I nod and he smiles.

"I always say to everyone in the OR, 'It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun.' Do you want to know why I always say that?" I nod. "I say it because my mentor always said it before every surgery he ever did and I wanted to carry on the tradition."

I smile as I tell him "Mom always used to say 'tough times don't last, but tough people do.' She always said that. She said it when we didn't have any food in the cupboard and when we had to put yet another layer of duct tape on my shoes and she said it right after my first brain surgery." I feel tears prick the back of my eyes at this.

"She wasn't able to be there before I went into surgery, but when I woke up she was there and that's the first thing she told me. She said 'tough times don't last, but tough people do.' She said 'EJ, I want you to remember that no matter what. We may be facing a storm but it shall pass and everything will be okay in the end. You are a fighter and you are tough. Everything will be okay.' It was the last thing she said to me, she disappeared after that. Sometimes I think I imagined her being there but then I remember the letter she left and the papers terminating her parental rights that were left behind. I might be angry with her for leaving me and I may hate her because she was never a good mom, but I know in my heart that she meant what she said. She believed I was tough and that I would live up to her favorite phrase."

Dr. Shepherd smiles and asks "I like that catchphrase, mind if I borrow it?"

"Sure," I tell him and he stands up straight, looking around the OR, "Dr. Shepherd?"

"Yeah EJ?" he pauses to bend to where my head is again.

"It's Bergeson," he looks confused so I continue, "my last name I mean." He nods and smiles big. I've shown him a bit of faith in his promise. "Emmerson James Bergeson," he smiles even bigger so I continue with "tell anyone what EJ stands for an I won't be afraid to hurt you though." I give him a hard glare and he smiles but he doesn't say anything more, though I know he's not going to share the information with anyone.

Instead, he stands back up and addresses the entire OR. "EJ says tough times don't last, but tough people do. EJ here is the toughest person I have ever met. Today we are going to help him be even tougher." Dr. Shepherd takes a moment to pause and give me a wink as he continues. "It's a beautiful day to save lives, let's have some fun."

 **A/N: I always wondered where Derek's line came from so I figured I'd put it in here. Sorry for making you guys wait. I hope this was worth it! Little bit of EJ's history to help with the mystery that is the kid. I'm planning an update for Saturday or Sunday. I'll try not to make you guys wait too long.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know, I know, late again on the update. I apologize. This time I actually don't have an excuse except that it was my last weekend home until March. I left for university yesterday, so I spent the weekend with family and packing and traveling back to the U.S. for university. Spring term starts Thursday and I'm feeling definitively bittersweet about it all. Anyways, there's a lot going on in this chapter so be prepared to be jerked all over the map. Also, for those of you who asked, EJ's last name (Bergeson) is his mother's maiden name. EJ knows who his father is but I'm holding that card very close to my chest for now. Also, just because EJ was being treated in New York, does not mean he was born there or that he was conceived there, he was just there when he got sick. If this works out the way I plan, you all will be guessing and re guessing for a while about EJs dad.**

 **-R**

 **Chapter 4**

When I wake up I can't help but feel a sinking feeling in my gut. It's as if my body knows something my mind does not. It's this feeling of premonition, like something life altering is going to happen today. I can't decide if it's a good or bad feeling. But one thing for sure is resounding in my head, today is not going to go like I expect.

It starts when I arrive at the hospital and Owen is on my back about teaching more than just Shane Ross. I get that I need to be teaching all of the residents and interns and that I can't blatantly favor him to the others, but at the same time, I don't know that I can trust anyone else.

Not today anyways. I need the best with me today, someone who can anticipate my every move and every request. It's nothing personal, I just need today to be smooth and easy. Operating on any kid is scary and nerve wracking, but it's different with EJ. His tumor is scary and a work of art in the sense that it's this magnificent tumor that has survived the harshest conditions and continues to thrive. It has evolved and adapted to be able to plant itself firmly in EJ's skull.

Operating on EJ scares me more than anything ever has but at the same time it gives me this thrill because logically I know I can get it. It's my illogical side that worries that it won't work out and EJ will die on the table or be forever incapacitated because of me. In an effort to compromise, I agree to have another resident and intern, starting tomorrow, today is too much pressure to switch. However, he has already added Wilson as a shadow for me.

"Look Shepherd," Owen is giving me his chief look, the one where he has one hand rubbing his eyes in frustration and the other settled firmly on his hip. The scowl is a dead giveaway that he is unhappy with my attempt at a compromise. "I don't care how much this patient matters to you personally, you need to be teaching more than just Ross. It's unfair to him just as much as the others if he is only logging neuro hours and no one else is getting the chance to."

I want to shake him because he doesn't get it. "Owen, I get it, alright? I need to start teaching everyone but it needs to start tomorrow. This is a really big case; I don't have time to be teaching someone else. Ross has studied this case he has put in the effort to get to be in there. None of the other interns or residents know this case and what we are trying to accomplish."

Owen looks frustrated as he rubs his hand over his face and seems to concede a bit as he asks, "how big a case are we talking?"

"It's a reoccurrence of a choroid plexus carcinoma in the temporal lobe. It's one of the quickest and smartest and deadliest brain tumors a neurosurgeon will ever see. It's a once in a career tumor." The hand rubbing his face has moved so that now he is staring me down with both hands on his hips.

"The patient is already at stage 4 after my assessment." I keep going, trying to reason with him. "He has a satellite tumor in his abdomen as well as evidence of cancer cells in his spinal tap. The tumor on his temporal lobe has moved slightly into the motor cortex and is fast approaching the brain stem and it's the size of my fist." I can see Owen's eyes widen substantially at my assessment of the case and the visual I provide as I close my fist to show him.

"I'm about to in to a 15-hour minimum surgery that I am unsure about myself. There's enough pressure with how advanced the tumor is and how close it is to vital sections of the brain. I don't need the added pressure of having interns who don't know their arse from their face much less anything about such an advanced tumor!" I raise my voice towards the end, frustrated that he can't see it my way, that he won't give in.

Owen obviously still doesn't get it as he pushes. "It _IS_ a big surgery, that's why you're going to allow more interns and residents in the OR where you can teach them. And that's why I'm going to move your surgery to OR 1 and you are going to allow people in the gallery." Owen knows me too well as he continues. "This is a teaching hospital! Use this case to teach!"

Owen begins walking away, but I know what will get him to see reason. "It's a 14-year-old Owen." He turns around when I say this, eyes widened slightly. "It's a kid who isn't even in high school, who's scared out of his wits and who doesn't need to be made into a spectacle by having an audience."

Owen sighs, but by the look on his face I know he's not giving up. "Shepherd, I am the chief," he steps towards me, voice becoming stronger and more sure. "And I say that you are to let more interns and for the gallery to be open! This is a once in a career tumor, like you said. We can learn a lot from its resection."

"Owen," I sigh not wanting to have to go there, but I do it anyways. "You may be the chief, but this is my OR and my patient. I'm not turning a kid into a side show, he already feels like a freak. I'm not making him feel more like one."

"How about if the gallery isn't open and extra interns and residents aren't allowed in until after he is put under?" Owen concedes. "That's a fair compromise. That way the patient doesn't feel like a spectacle and it can still be a learning experience." He is trying to meet me halfway.

I want to grumble in frustration at not getting my way but I concede to his attempt to meet me halfway. "Fine. But then you need to keep your accountant surgeon out of my OR." I put a finger to his chest and I can see he is trying to not bark at me to back off. "This surgery isn't about resources or ways to cut corners or efficiency. It's about saving a little boy's life. I don't want her in there, breathing down my neck, trying to tell me there are more efficient ways to remove a tumor. This is a kid Owen, one who has spent years in treatment and is still battling one of the worst tumors I've ever seen. It's a kid who had to grow up way too fast but who still sees the world we the slightest bit of a childish wonder, who believes in the good of the world and who hopes and prays for miracles. This is one surgery that efficiency lady is not allowed to taint."

Owen looks frustrated at this. "Shepherd, Dr. Cahill is using today to examine each of our surgeons. As the head of neuro here, she is very interested in seeing your work. You need to let her," he trails off, putting up less of a fight than I thought he would.

"Hunt," I know my anger is seeping into my tone. "I will let her observe me for any other surgery, except this one."

"Shepherd, she is trying to save this hospital alright? This hospital is in trouble, all because of the lawsuit you pursued!" he pokes me in the chest, red filling his face at his anger. "Alright, it's your fault we have to have her here, trying to fix it! So, no, Dr. Cahill can be wherever she damn well pleases!" we have turned the pediatrics hallway into a place to air our dirty laundry it seems.

Rather than ignite another fight with Owen, I storm off, Wilson following close behind. I know that the day can only get worse from here on out. And I know by the time the clock strikes midnight on a new day, my premonitions from when I woke up will be realized. Somehow, someway, I can feel it in my bones.

I'm already in the OR making sure everything is set when Ross brings EJ in, chattering away. I drop my conversational banter with Alex to get a good look at EJ. His requested Mohawk is comical. He looks so different, younger, lighter but at the same time, I can tell just by looking at the pale face of my patient that Ross has done little to distract and reassure the kid and that he is perhaps more nervous than yesterday when I saw the fear flash in his eyes when I told him his cancer had been upgraded to stage 4- metastasized to the spinal cord and the abdomen.

"EJ, I know you're probably scared," I tell him and see his little light brown eyes staring up at me with hope. "more scared than I could ever know." I tell him, pausing to let it sink for only a mere second before I continue. "But it's okay to be scared." I try to think of something I know about him, something to distract him. And then I think of all the books he had delicately perched on the window shelf in his room. I remember books like The Great Gatsby and A Tale of Two Cities and Twelfth Night. I know he is an avid reader who loves the classics, so I take a leap of faith and ask, "Do you like quotes? I saw you have a lot of books, so you must like to read. Do you have a favorite quote?"

When EJ looks skeptical I keep rambling, trying to get a reaction, I remind myself a lot of Meredith when we first met and she was so nervous. "How about if I tell you a secret first?" I get an agreeable nod and I can't help but smile big, taking a step closer.

"I'm superstitious." I tell him, smiling bigger as his eyes light up at the information about myself. I reach forward and gently pull the blanket up and over his shoulders. The scene reminds me a lot of tucking Zola in at night and reminds me that soon I will have another little one to tuck in too and both things make my smile grow again. He probably hasn't had anyone to tuck him in in a while and I can tell by the smile that graces his features at my actions that he has missed it and doesn't mind me doing it. "I won't step on cracks for fear of hurting someone I love and I don't walk under ladders no matter how much distance it will cut and I have rituals before surgery." I let out a little chuckle before continuing, liking the growing smile I see on his face. "I have said this one phrase before every single surgery I've ever done, but usually the patients are asleep before I say it. Do you want to know what I say?"

When he gives an enthusiastic nod, snuggling slightly into the blanket I had pulled up for him, I continue. "I always say to everyone in the OR, 'It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun.' Do you want to know why I always say that?" EJ nods once more. I kneel down, closer to his ear and whisper like it's a big secret. "I say it because my mentor always said it before every surgery he ever did and I wanted to carry on the tradition."

I smile as I see the nerves wash away from EJ's face as I let him in on my secret. I hoped my trust in EJ as a confidante would be reciprocated but he doesn't seem to want to share. So, I stand up and move to walk away, to finish making sure everything is ready for us to begin, on schedule at 8am, in 7 minutes.

I stop when I hear a small voice say "Mom always used to say 'tough times don't last, but tough people do.' She always said that." I turn around to see a sad look on his face. "She said it when we didn't have any food in the cupboard and when we had to put yet another layer of duct tape on my shoes and she said it right after my first brain surgery." I can hear the vulnerability in his voice and I can see the small tear in his eye as he looks down.

I take a step closer to him as he continues talking, a few more tears dripping on his face. "She wasn't able to be there before I went into surgery, but when I woke up she was there and that's the first thing she told me." EJ's eyes are so filled with innocence that it pains me to hear his story. No child should have to go through what he's been through. "She said 'tough times don't last, but tough people do.' She said 'EJ, I want you to remember that no matter what. We may be facing a storm but it shall pass and everything will be okay in the end. You are a fighter," his voice breaks for a second before he keeps going. "And you are tough. Everything will be okay.' It was the last thing she said to me, she disappeared after that. Sometimes I think I imagined her being there but then I remember the letter she left and the papers terminating her parental rights that were left behind." His face changes, no longer sad but accepting instead. "I might be angry with her for leaving me and I may hate her because she was never a good mom, but I know in my heart that she meant what she said. She believed I was tough and that I would live up to her favorite phrase."

I smile, because he's letting me in, even if only a little bit. "I like that catchphrase, mind if I borrow it?"

"Sure," he tells me and I begin to stand up straighter, ready to show EJ he can trust me. I stop however as he says, "Dr. Shepherd?"

"Yeah?" I ask, squatting back down to be closer to his head.

"It's Bergeson," I look at him confused, I move to ask, but EJ keeps talking, rambling just like Mer does when she's emotional and just like I sometimes do when I am passionate or in a heated debate. "My last name, I mean." I nod, following along and smiling big because it sounds like he's starting form a trust in me. "Emmerson James Bergeson," I can't help the grin splattered across my face as he goes a little farther to say "tell anyone what EJ stands for and I won't be afraid to hurt you though."

I know I have the biggest, goofiest grin on my face as I straighten up to my full height and begin to address the OR, not quite full, but all essential people are here. Owen came through, all the interns and residents and attending surgeons who want to watch are waiting for my go ahead to enter the gallery. I feel bad not telling EJ that there will be a lot of people watching, but I know he is barely calm as it is. I figure a little lie of omission will do no harm. I address the whole OR, but I look EJ in the eye "EJ says tough times don't last, but tough people do. EJ here is the toughest person I have ever met. Today we are going to help him be even tougher." I take a minute to pause, letting what I said sink in and to wink at EJ as I continue. "It's a beautiful day to save lives, let's have some fun."

The anesthesiologist– Dr. Knox injects EJ's IV line and puts the mask over his face. I can see fear in EJ's eyes so instead of leaving to scrub I do what feels right. I stand there next to EJ and take his hand into my own. I rub circles over his hand and maintain eye contact until he is out cold and they begin to intubate him. His hand has gone limp, but I give his hand one good squeeze and whisper in his ear, "I got you EJ. You're not alone."

I'm seven and a half hours into the surgery, and about 40 percent of the way through the resection when I run into my first problem. I am at the part where I have to dissect the tumor from the motor cortex. The problem is simple enough- I don't know which draining vein to cut. One could paralyze his left arm and the other would lead to no deficits. The problem is, I don't have any way of knowing which one is right. It's a guessing game where I have to choose. I have to make a decision that could render a 14-year-old kid's arm paralyzed, permanently. And the enormity of the situation gets to me.

"Ross, I need you to remain completely still for me, alright?" I don't move a muscle, but I need him to not move as I switch my instruments to Wilson's hands, calling out, "Wilson, I need you to step up here and hold these instruments. I need you to take them from me and hold them completely still, alright, no movements from either of you, okay?" I ask as Wilson takes control of the instruments and I am able to back away from the table and move farther away as the enormity of the situation settles in my stomach like a rock and I feel a need to vomit.

I rip my mask from my face once I am farther away and bend to grab my knees, trying to breathe. I take three minutes, breathing deeply to control my breathing and to calm my racing heart. As a neurosurgeon, it's a basic rule of thumb that your hands can't be shaky because even the slightest movement can be catastrophic for the patient. So, I take my time to get my breathing under control and to stop my hands from tremoring in fear, grateful I didn't need to vomit, and to drink water, knowing I am most likely dehydrated.

When I step back up to the operating table and to EJ's open brain, I feel better and the enormous rock in my stomach has shrunk substantially. I already know that I am going to cut the slightly bigger vein, knowing that that vein is the most likely source of blood for the tumor. I feel good about my choice, but before I get a chance to cut, EJ begins to go downhill, and fast. His pressure plummets and his heartrate starts going haywire. And the OR becomes a madhouse as I start barking med orders and pulling instruments as the monitor flat lines.

9 hours later, I have successfully resected 95% of EJ's tumor, the rest will be left to radiation and chemotherapy as any more resection could create any number of complications. He crashed twice during the surgery but has been stable for the last 2 hours. As I begin closing, the door to the OR bangs open and luckily no one was holding instruments in EJ's head.

"Dr. Shepherd is this your Choroid Plexus Carcinoma removal?" It's the annoying voice of our new accountant surgeon.

I want to scream but I take a deep breath first and lower my voice to a deadly level. "Yes, it is. Did you seriously just come banging into MY OR asking what I was doing?"

"Dr. Shepherd I know you don't like me, I know you don't want me here, but I'm here to save your hospital."

"I understand why you are here. What I do not understand is why you would come banging into an OR, my OR, where I am operating on the brain of a 14-year-old. If you are in fact a surgeon like Chief Hunt introduced you as, then you should understand the delicacy of a neurosurgeon's job. You are lucky I happened to not hand my hands in this child's brain when you threw the door to MY OR open!"

She ignores my anger. "How far in are you? I was hoping to see your work. I was told this surgery had been moved to tomorrow at 6am."

"We are just closing up now," I can see the steam practically billowing out of her ears at this information. "I apologize for the confusion but this surgery was never moved. It has always been scheduled for 6am."

"Shepherd," the accountant surgeon- Dr. Cahill begins but doesn't get very far.

"Sorry for the confusion Dr. Cahill, I had just been under the impression that the patient had spiked a fever overnight when I changed the OR board, my bad. I mixed up which patient's surgery had been pushed. I'm only an intern." Wilson shrugs and uses a what-can-you-do face.

Dr. Cahill looks like she won't be taking Wilson's crappy excuse but she just huffs and storms out of the OR. And it is with this that I come to realize Wilson may be a valuable asset. She is calm in the OR, and she knew what I needed without ever having to be told. Shane would never have been able to do something like that; he wouldn't have been able to lie under pressure.

"Wilson, step up here. I'd like you to first assist on this close." I can see the light of excitement in her eyes as she steps forward to assist me in closing the incision.

After surgery, I walk away, knowing that Ross and Wilson are perfectly capable of getting EJ to post op for the time being and monitoring his vitals like I asked. I am passing the waiting room, on my way to the elevator so that I can go to my office to catch a few hours of sleep before the morning, when I see a man, the only one out there, in a suit. There's something in my gut that says he is from Social Services, that Alex did in fact call CPS like we had discussed and who knows how long he was waiting here. So, instead of ignoring him and bee-lining for the elevator bank, I walk over to him.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Shepherd," I tell him, sticking my hand out for him to shake as he stands up, putting paperwork that was in his lap onto the chair next to him.

"Nice to finally meet you Dr. Shepherd, I'm Jack Moreau, I'm from the department of Family Services. We were alerted to a runaway foster child situation by a," he pauses for a second to check his notes, "Dr. Alexander Karev?"

I nod my head in the affirmative. "Yes, I asked Dr. Karev to call you. Why don't we go to my office, where there's more privacy to discuss this case?"

When Mr. Moreau nods, we begin walking to the elevators and I begin filling him in.

It takes an hour, but I finally have Mr. Moreau filled in on all of EJ's case, leaving out the detail where I know what the letters E and J stand for. I don't want to betray the kid's trust and I know that CPS won't take long to track down his file come morning. For now, though, I've explained to Mr. Moreau that EJ is still intubated due to the extensive surgery I performed and that he will not be able to speak to the child until he has awoken from the anesthesia on his own. Mr. Moreau seems more than happy to get to leave by 11:30 pm and lets me know he'll be back tomorrow afternoon.

I walk him out of my office when the thought crosses my mind. EJ is all alone. He has no one. His mom sounds like a no-good deadbeat, he doesn't know his father, he has no siblings or foster parents that care. His new case worker has his own family to get home to. Which means he's all alone, and no one will be there when he wakes up. It is these thoughts that power me towards EJ's room on the 4th floor.

It's a sight for sore eyes, to see such a young kid laying in such a big hospital bed, hooked to so many wires and so many tubes. It breaks my heart more as I walk into his room and take a seat in the recliner, pulling it closer to the bed. I take his left hand into my hands, and hold onto him.

It must be a half hour before I see Meredith stop by, Zola in her arms asleep and her baby belly slightly protruding from underneath. I can't help but smile at the sweet sight.

"Derek," she whispers, stepping into the room and coming to stand next to me. "We're going home. You coming?"

"No," I look up at her, and try to give her a slight smile. "I think I'll stay here tonight."

"Okay." Meredith tells me and turns to walk out. I look back at EJ's serene face and can't help the small tear I feel in my eye. I wipe it quickly as I feel Mer's hand on my shoulder and I look up to her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I sigh, "tough case."

"Want to tell me about it?" she asks, sitting on the arm of the chair.

"It's just this kid. He has no one. His mom abandoned him because he's sick, and he doesn't even know who his dad is. He's all alone." I see her nod, so I spill my heart a bit to her. "He found out his cancer relapsed, stage 4. His little body is being ravaged by Choroid Plexus Carcinoma." I see her eyes widen at the diagnosis but I can't stop the words flowing out of my mouth. "I just…remember the case we had when you were an intern, the young woman who was beaten to a pulp and who had no one?"

"Allison," she nods so I know she's following along.

"Remember how I said that if I was in a coma all of my sisters and my mom and all my nieces and nephews would be there, and then you said you could understand. Being alone I mean? And I didn't get it because I didn't know your mom was sick at that point. And now, if anything happened to either of us there would be so many people there." Mer nods, so I know she's following along. "Well, this kid, his name is EJ," I tell her and I think she knows where I'm going. "he just reminds me of Allison. He's all alone in this world, but it's almost worse because he just had major brain surgery. The resection took 16 and a half hours. And he's going to be waking up with no one but doctors and nurses."

Meredith doesn't say anything but I know she gets it, she understands why this case is so tough.

"I think I'm going to stay, that way he doesn't have to be alone when he wakes up. Because he might not have any family, but he has me." Meredith gives me a small smile, kisses my forehead and walks out of the room with our daughter still asleep on her chest, and I know she gets it.

 **A/N: Sorry for another late update. I almost left you guys with a cliff hanger, so be happy I decided to continue with the chapter and not make you guys hate me yet.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I kind of want to play a game with my readers. I'm a huge book buff– my all-time favorites being A Tale of Two Cities, David Copperfield and Lord of the Flies (however you won't find any of those for this game). As such, I thought of something that might be fun. I've been embedding some of my favorite quotes into future chapters – somewhat by accident and as such I thought we might play a game of eye-spy. For whoever can spot the quote– PM me the quote, author and book– and whoever can do it first and gets the answers right, gets to ask me ONE question about the story, anything you want– except the question everyone wants to know of course (who EJ's Dad is). If you answer in the reviews, not only does it not count but if it's correct, no one can win that chapter. Good luck, because I read way too much, and a lot of it is the classics. This chapter I'll go easy and they will become progressively harder to spot.**

 **Good Luck!**

 **-R**

EJ's POV

Sometimes I wonder. I wonder what life could be like if I had been given a different family. If God had decided to give me a mom and a dad, or at least one good one. I wonder what life could be like had I been born a girl. I wonder what life could be like if I had siblings or if I hadn't gotten sick. Sometimes I wonder.

Dreaming is perhaps the one thing a foster child cannot indulge in. Dreams are supposed to be where the fairies wrap you in magic dust and take you to faraway places like in Peter Pan. Dreams are the land where animals talk like in Alice in Wonderland, and true love prevails and someone is always ready to rescue you like in Rapunzel. Dreams are meant to be happy and joyful and full of childish wonder.

For me, dreams are the nightmares that don't wake me in a sweat, panting and gasping, heart racing while I scream for a mom who will never come, for a dad I have never known. And the real nightmares are what I have lived through instead.

I remember Thanksgiving when I was 6 so vividly, perhaps because I live through it in my _dreams_ at least once a week, more when it's been a tough few days. I relive the moments when I had rats scurrying over my body as I tried to sleep, and hiding under bags of trash for warmth. I remember hearing sirens and screams and the howling of lost dogs. The smells of fire and urine and garbage mixed into an awful combination distinctly street alley, I looked and smelled like that alley, covered head to toe in grime and smelling like a dumpster. I remember my mouth being so dry I would've drank from the puddle next to me to get rid of the cotton mouth, and squeezing my eyes as tight as possible, wanting to pretend I was anywhere else. It feels so real as I sleep tonight; I can almost reach out and touch it.

The nightmares are usually fast and easy to escape. This time however, it is as if they are in slow motion and I am trapped, unable to move, unable to breathe, paralyzed in the moment with fear. I am watching as a dark shadow comes down the alley, and stands next to the pile of trash I'm hiding under, arguing with some other guy who is a few feet in front of me.

It's like I'm trapped in a dark room, my sense of sight turned off in favor of only hearing the commotion in front of me. Every time the dream is the same. I always wake up at the exact same time – when the gun goes off and I freeze in cowardly fear, unsure what to do.

But this time, I can't get myself out of it and I relive the memory. Because that's what it is, a memory. It's not the deluded illusions of a child who ate too much sugar and stayed up way too late watching a scary movie they weren't supposed to see. It's a memory of being 6 years old and huddled under a pile of trash in a dark alley as a man lay bleeding next to me and police sirens rang loud.

I am stuck in this nightmarish memory where I cry quietly, eyes screwed shut until I feel the trash being picked up off me and a man holds me tight while I cry. I can hear myself calling for my mommy over and over again and trying to explain to the police officer that my mom will be back soon and will worry when I'm not where I'm supposed to be. But this time, it's zooming in and out of focus, not entirely clear. And it's more frightening because I know how it ends – a trip to the hospital where they find out all the blood is not mine before I end up with another bad foster home placement and have yet another disappointing Christmas, compounded to be worse by the good Holiday the year before. I want to press fast forward on the memories but I can't. I'm stuck reliving it all through a distorted lens.

My childhood– it's the same thing over and over again. And for whatever reason, tonight I am stuck re-watching all the painful memories– all the one's I want most to forget. I watch as Mom gets herself righted for a little while and we seem to be doing fine and then, suddenly we're not. Sometimes it means we are evicted because she's spent the rent money on drugs, her favorite being heroin but she's really not all that picky when it comes down to it, and sometimes it's that she's gotten arrested for something, or there's no food in the apartment when my social worker comes by for a surprise visit. It all ends the same, 'when the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it's never good news.

And I relive it all in this weird slow yet fast motion camera. I want to skip to the better memories. The days where mom is okay, or the days when I was with the Weskits. I can't help but wonder if I made a mistake by leaving them.

They were the best foster family I had had in a while. They had 3 sons around my age and they let me stay for nearly a year before I ran off, sometimes I wondered when the second shoe would drop, when would they throw me back to the system.

The oldest, Henry, he was the big brother stereotype– kind, gentle and fiercely overprotective. Even at only 17, I know he will be great one day. He talks about how this May he'll graduate high school and that he plans to go the Naval Academy in Annapolis. He tells me about how he wants to go military like his father, but how he isn't interested in being a man on the frontlines. He dreams of commanding his own destroyer one day. We would spend long hours talking about our dreams and without fail, he always brings up the Navy and how he wants it to be a career.

Peter was the closest in age to me but possibly the furthest from me. He's 15 and thinks he runs the place, so of course he found me to be a nuisance. He always avoided having to do anything with me, from sports to watching a movie together. He would avoid me like the plague.

The youngest was Nathan and he went to school with me so we got along well enough. He was in my 7th grade math class and found it odd that we were 15 months apart but in the same grade. I tried to explain to him that I had been held back from my time in the hospital on numerous occasions. He always came to the conclusion that I was just stupid and that's why I had been held back. He never listened to me.

I never told the parents when the boys were mean. They were blood and I was not, that meant they had no obligation to keep me. And it meant that they would always win any battles that involved parents. I was a handful enough as it was with all the doctors' appointments in the city and all the medications I had to take. The last home before the Weskits simply saw me as passing through and wanted nothing to do with me. But the Weskits were nice enough.

Mrs. Weskit was always checking on me, wanting to make sure I was alright. Maybe it was because she was a nurse, as she tried to tell me one day, wanting to justify her worries to me. But it was all the same, she cared. She made me feel loved when she helped me with the math that always seemed to be jumbled up in my brain and she held me in a tight hug when a kid made fun of me in school. She baked cookies and let me have some and would take me out for lunch when I had a doctor's appointment in the city, which was usually once every three weeks. I felt like I never was not going to the hospital for scans or therapies or counts or something. There was always something and we couldn't just go to the Weskit boys' doctor on base when I caught a cold or was throwing up because of a stomach bug. It was always an hour trip to the city or a rush to the ER.

But as much as I hated that Mrs. Weskit had to take me to all the doctors' appointments, I loved what it meant. It meant she cared and that she wanted me to be okay. It was the only time I ever got to pick the restaurant and I always wanted to try somewhere different. She never complained no matter where we went and she always made sure I'd had enough. She included me on the shopping lists and gave me shoes and clothes that were properly sized and new– no holes, no duct tape to hold things together. She made me feel like family.

They were a military family, so Henry would tell me stories from all the places they'd been. Henry was born in Germany and he remembers going off base with his mom, always to the market down the road. He tells me stories about the people he met and all the adventures they went on when they were stationed there. Most of it was the memory of a photograph rather than a clear-cut memory, but Henry made you believe he could remember when he was 2 and they took a day trip to Berlin.

He told me about how they moved to the base in Okinawa, Japan when he was 7 and he remembers all the weird food he tried there. Then it was Fort Hood when he was 9, Fort Carson for his 11th birthday and Fort Bragg for his 14th. He tells me about all the trouble he got in when they moved to Fort Dix when he was 15 and then finally they settled at West Point 6 months later when his father was promoted to Major Weskit and was given a position in academia.

I remember Henry always talking about how this was the last stop before they finally settled down for good. The dream was D.C. and Henry had faith that the appointment would come soon– very soon. He never meant to say it but it's always what's left unsaid that rattles you most. I knew that they would move and I would be yanked into a new foster home.

Major Weskit was nice enough. He treated me just like his other sons. He was kind and liked to take us to the baseball field a lot. He never put me down when I tired out before the other boys and he always tried to encourage me to try again every time I missed the ball when we practiced hitting the balls. He was a good man, hard and strict but good. He cared that I was well taken care of and he cared when I didn't feel good, as is testified by the fact that when I was sick he was gentler than I had ever seen him and he would even stay home with me occasionally if Mrs. Weskit couldn't get out of a shift. He even took the day off every three months when I had scans so that he could accompany us to the city. He was first father figure I ever really had.

But it always left me wondering. Most of the foster families found my health to be a burden and would often drop me as soon as they could. But the Weskits never seemed to mind. Sometimes I would dream that when the Weskits would move to D.C., I would get to go with them. I never said it out loud and I never thought about the possibilities for more than three seconds before I squashed them out. But I did dream of them being a forever family for me. They made me feel like family, guess I screwed that up now.

A lot of times I imagined what it would be like if I had grown up in the family. Once, I found a photo album. I wasn't meant to be snooping. I was supposed to be looking for the Christmas decorations, when Mrs. Weskit had sent me up to the attic while the boys had been at school and Major Weskit had been at work. It was one of the days when we had gone to the doctors at the hospital in the city and Mrs. Weskit was teary-eyed.

It was November, just after Thanksgiving. Mrs. Weskit had talked the whole way home about Christmas and how she was so excited I would be with them for it. She talked about cutting down a tree and drinking hot chocolate by the fire and dressing up all nice for Christmas Eve mass and going out to a fancy dinner in the city afterwards before going ice skating at the Rockefeller Center. She spoke of all the traditions they had done in the past but how she liked the New York traditions most. She was so sad and quiet by the time we got back to the house. I suggested we start decorating the house for Christmas that night because it seemed to cheer her up when she talked about it, and I offered to get everything down from the attic for her.

So, I was looking in different boxes trying to decipher which held the Christmas decorations when I ran across the albums. I didn't mean to peak but I saw pictures from Christmases in the past and I couldn't help it. There were so many photographs. But as the photographs regressed in time, I came upon photos of the Weskits with a little girl. What throws me off is one Christmas she is there and the next year she is not. I don't even know her name or who she is but I feel this deep connection to her the moment I lay eyes on her with a beautiful satin red dress with a deep green sash at the waist. As I delved deeper into the past, I saw she was there for all the earlier Christmases, before she vanished from the pictures.

When I had heard Mrs. Weskit calling to check on me, I put everything back, but the little girl in the red dress with bouncy brown curls who was making bunny ears on a little Peter never left my mind.

Slowly but surely, as the rest of my childhood appears before my eyes I feel the fog that holds me down lifting. And as I flash forward to the present I come to understand the distinct feeling in my gut. Something's wrong, I am slowly coming to awareness, chocking on air, unable to breath as my lungs scream in protest. That's when I hear the yelling and the monitors going haywire. And that's when my eyes snap open to way too much light. That's when I hear 'CODE BLUE' and feel a shock of energy. That's when everything speeds up, leading to darkness with my memories once again.

 **A/N: A little cliffhanger because its chapter 5 and I wanted to shake it up a bit. A little bit shorter than normal, but I tried something different for this chapter, focusing on some background for EJ because I felt it was needed to better understand him in the coming chapters, hope you guys like it! I technically made my personal deadline to have this up on Monday, and I think it will work well to be scheduled for Mondays as update day with my course load for spring term. Let me know your thoughts, and make sure to try my game of eye spy, I never realized how often I am quoting old books until my proofer told me I should turn it into a game when he realized what was happening.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry this is a week late. Scholarship week is always pretty nuts. Hope this chapter helps some as the action picks up a bit. I will try to get this week's update out before the weekend so I can catch up. There still are hidden quotes, if you want to look. This one is from a much more well-known book. I'll make it a little easier by giving the book title, so all you have to look for is the quote. This week it's from To Kill a Mockingbird. I read it for the first time in grade 10 and loved it, as dorky as that sounds.**

 **-R**

Derek's POV

It's the middle of the night when I see the first movement, only a small twitch but it's a sign EJ is waking up. It's good because it has been 30 hours and it's right in the timeline for when a child should be coming out of anesthesia after such a long surgery.

I spent the previous day checking in on EJ in between cases and consults, relieved to see him resting peacefully. And then I spent the night at the hospital once again, knowing it wouldn't be long until he was waking up, no one there with him. It hurt to think of him waking up in the Pediatric ICU with no one. So, I spent the night charting and resting in short stretches instead of at home with Meredith and Zola, getting a good night's sleep, or well as good a night as one can with a toddler who fights sleep and a pregnant wife who is uncomfortable in one position for too long.

The sun is starting to rise for a new day and it's almost like I can pretend the kid is just waking up from a good night's rest, not extensive brain surgery and over a day of unconsciousness.

"You're not alone EJ. I'm here." I squeeze EJ's hand, scooting closer to him as he rustles a bit more, beginning to fight the intubation. "You're not alone."

His heart rate monitor picks up a little, but I think nothing of it as it is fairly normal to be unsure when waking from surgery. Instead, I keep whispering to him. "EJ, it's okay, I'm right here. You have to be awake and aware before we can remove the tube that has been helping you breathe, okay?" he keeps fighting the tube though.

I hit the nurses' call button and keep talking to EJ, telling him he's not alone. Brooks, my intern for the day comes in but it's a peripheral thought. Just as we are about to extubate, I notice EJ's I.C.P. level isn't right. It should've gone down; it shouldn't be so high.

It puzzles me for a moment and that's all it takes for EJ to start seizing. I immediately jump into action. Something is wrong, we missed something in surgery, that feeling from my gut yesterday when I woke up is back.

A dose of lorazepam gets the seizure under control within 3 minutes of it starting and EJ's eyes lazily slip open and I can tell he is aware and looking for something, what I'm not sure. "EJ, we need to leave the tube in while we take you for scans, see what's going on in that big brain of yours, okay?" I watch his eyes for some sort of recognition as we begin prepping him for transport and begin pushing him out of the room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a spike on the heartrate monitor. It's almost so small that I miss it, but I see it. And I feel the rock back in my stomach, tugging down even harder. I come to the realization of what it means right as the monitor wails and EJ starts crashing.

"CODE BLUE!" I yell and the nurses begin running the code with me, Brooks rushing for the crash cart, everyone following my instructions seamlessly. I begin CPR as EJ is disconnected from the vent to be bagged and his bed is lowered flat once again.

We keep working, and I keep calling med orders out as I yell, "Page Cardio!" And then it's our moment.

The intern in the room is my least favorite, Heather Brooks. She's weird and makes me uncomfortable but she is golden as I am focused on doing compressions and am not watching the monitor like a hawk when she calls out "V-Fib! V-Fib! V-Fib!"

The movements are so fast I miss them as a nurse rips EJ's hospital gown open and roughly rolls him to the side to put the board under his back. "Paddles!" Brooks hands them to me and covers them in gel. "Charge to 150, Clear!" I zap EJ and watching his chest jumps. it looks beyond painful with the small size of his chest, and the harsh outline of his ribs. I check the monitor and see nothing. "Charge to 200! Clear!" I zap him again with no effect.

"EJ, you don't get to give up, not today." I whisper quickly as Brooks is slapping more gel on the paddles and I see Christina rush in. Rather than acknowledge her I keep going. "Charge to 200, again! Clear!"

There's a moment of surreal silence as everyone watches with baited breath, and then, the monitor picks up, EJ's pressure rising. I sag in relief as I say, "He's back."

I feel shaky as everyone begins picking up and we prep EJ for transport once again. I see Christina come up and steal the chart and she begins asking questions, "What happened?"

When I look to Brooks, she jumps to action and begins rattling all the information off. "The patient is a 14-year-old boy who underwent a choroid plexus carcinoma tumor resection yesterday, performed by Dr. Shepherd." She gains confidence in what she's saying as Christina nods along.

But she loses a bit of my respect as she goes on. "It was pretty awesome; the tumor was HUGE!"

When I shoot her a stern look she shrinks back, some of her confidence fading but goes on. "He experienced a seizure and his I.C.P. level went through the roof suddenly when he woke up from the anesthesia. We were moving him to get a second set of post-op scans to check for a re-bleed to explain the rise in pressure when he crashed. He was down for 4 minutes before we got him back." Brooks fills Christina in as I re-prepare EJ to be moved.

I avoid looking at Christina as I feel her intense gaze on my head. "Dr. Shepherd," she starts, "what am I missing here?"

I try to play innocent by asking, "What do you mean?"

"Why would a 14-year-old suddenly crash?" she stands with a hand on her hip, and I almost feel like a small child being scolded, which makes me want to laugh. How is Meredith the attending the residents fear? Christina is by far more intimidating.

"Well," I feel like playing coy. "I'd assume it has to do with the major brain surgery yesterday and the stress it put on his body." I quirk an eyebrow at her.

"Derek," her exasperated tone tells me she's frustrated. "What's the history on this patient? All I have here is a few scans and information only dating to four days ago. I don't even have a name for this kid. History, now!" Brooks and Edwards, who is on Christina's service it seems, both jump and I want to laugh at the fear on their faces.

"EJ was treated for a choroid plexus carcinoma 3 years ago at New York Children's Hospital." As she nods along, I continue. "He underwent a tumor resection, chemotherapy, radiation and a stem cell transplant." She keeps nodding so I keep going. "He was No Evidence of Disease until 2 weeks ago when a regrowth was discovered. New York Children's claimed his case was inoperable with the location and size of the regrowth and said he was terminal. We found a second tumor that metastasized to his abdomen that I don't know that they were aware of." I see her features soften some. "He came here, for me, to ask me to do the resection. Is that enough history?" we are ready to move so I begin pushing the bed out of the door and I motion for Christina and the interns to follow, Brooks stepping up to help push.

"Yes." She decides. "I am going to need a repeat EKG when he is stable and if you are headed back to surgery I'll need to be there to monitor him." I nod, understanding her concerns. "I'm willing to bet that his heart was damaged by the chemotherapy and since you don't seem to have the files, we don't know the extent." She signs off on the EKG order on EJ's chart, handing it back to Brooks and pausing to ask, "Where are his parents? They can probably give me a good understanding of the damage."

I cringe as she asks. When I don't answer right away she gives me a stern look and I fold because Meredith and Christina are the only two people who can make me give in with just one look. Well, except maybe Zola, but luckily my daughter hasn't figured that out quite yet. "EJ is an orphan for all intents and purposes."

"And what exactly does that mean?" she raises an eyebrow at me as we stop in front of the elevator, headed to CT for a second set of scans. I'm hoping against logic that the seizure was fluke, that I won't have to take EJ back to surgery.

"He ran away from his foster family after his doctors labeled him as terminal." I hope she doesn't catch on to what I'm saying, but she does.

"You don't have files or a documented history because you took on a minor without figuring out who he was." She looks at me with wide eyes. "Owen is going to kill you," she whispers.

"Owen is not going to kill me. We called CPS, we followed protocol." I don't want to admit what I know.

"Who is 'we'?" she doesn't take it where I thought she would.

"Karev and I."

"So you and evil spawn made a decision to take on a pro bono case- because there is no way CPS will cover the medical costs with an experimental surgery for a kid who's been deemed terminal, no insurance company would cover that kind of surgery." I make a move to butt in but don't get a chance.

"You decided to take on a massive case as a pro bono, you almost certainly didn't consult with Owen about, because I know he would never have approved this. And you went cowboy and right into surgery without waiting for CPS to come, claim the kid and take responsibility for his medical care. Owen is going to kill you."

The elevator comes and we all get on, Christina obviously wanting to keep lecturing.

"I didn't do a cowboy surgery." I protest. "Per the file EJ gave me, the notes on his scans from three months ago say that there was no evidence of a regrowth. And given the size of the tumor and how close it was to the brain stem, I had to operate before it had a chance to get any bigger." Christina is taping her foot and I know she doesn't buy that I couldn't wait for the kid to be ID-ed. "If it only took 3 months for the tumor to grow to such a massive size, EJ would've had maybe a week before the tumor would have really been inoperable and he would've truly been terminal."

As I finish, the elevator opens and we begin moving, once again at a brisk pace. "I'll talk to Owen about it later!" I call out, hoping to leave Christina behind.

"I'm not done with you Shepherd!" She calls out after me. I can't help but smirk, because I knew she wouldn't be.

 ** _SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW_**

"What are we looking for on this scan Brooks?" I ask as we wait for the CT to come up.

"A re-bleed?" It comes out as more of a question than a response.

"Confidence Brooks. You are wicked smart and you have a knack for neuro but you are nervous, unsure. You need to speak with confidence, so, I'll ask again. What are we looking for on the scan?"

"A re-bleed, sir." This time, the answer is much more confident and I could believe her response.

"Very good assessment Brooks, but what else could it be? A 14 year old male presents with a grand mal seizure following an extensive brain surgery. Raised I.C.P. and heart rate. You do not know the patient's history so you have to rely on only what you can see. So, tell me, what other options are there as explanations. 'People generally see what they look for and hear what they listen for. I want to teach you to avoid only looking for the most probable answer, because more often than not, the most probable is going to be your answer, but you don't want to miss something because that's all you thought of. So, what else could this be?"

"It could also be an aneurysm or part of the remaining tumor interfering with a section of the brain." Brooks replies.

"Very good Brooks," I tell her, as I see the scan coming up. "But I have a feeling in this particular case, the most probable will be our answer." I look over the scan and see the re-bleed. "And it is. We are going back in, call down and book an OR we need to move quickly." I motion to the scan and we begin moving, fast, because the re-bleed is fairly substantial.

 ** _SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW_**

After the crash Craniotomy for EJ, I feel like crashing into my sofa. It's a quick enough fix and I'm out of the OR by 11 am, grateful I don't have any more surgeries scheduled today. But instead of crashing, the nurse tells me CPS is waiting for me and I run into Mr. Moreau in the waiting room, and he has a woman with him. I'm curious about who this new person may be, but I don't question it.

"Dr. Shepherd," I hear Mr. Moreau as I approach him, "This is Ms. Keller, Emmerson's case worker from New York. Ms. Keller, this is Dr. Shepherd, he is Emmerson's surgeon I spoke about with you on the phone yesterday."

"Nice to meet you Dr. Shepherd." I shake hands with her.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Why don't we go to my office and we can discuss the case?" I tell them, already leading the way to my office.

In my office, I sit at my desk while the social workers sit opposite from me. I can almost pretend EJ is normal and has two parents with them sitting here, even though I know it's not true.

"I'll go ahead and cover the case from when I took it on." When they nod, I continue and begin filling them in.

Half an hour later and a lot of questions, I am finishing up my explanations as I tell them, "EJ has a lot ahead of him. He will need at least one more surgery for the satellite tumor in his abdomen and several months of chemotherapy and radiation. But my team and I feel confident that EJ's prognosis is good. He is young and we were able to get the brain tumor in time. We will start chemotherapy in two weeks and radiation after that."

"Dr. Shepherd," I see Mr. Moreau shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he looks like he doesn't want to have to discuss this part of the case. "The state is not prepared to take on the costs of Emmerson James Bergeson's case. It sounds like a lot of this will experimental, and not cheap. The insurance will not cover experimental treatments, and the out of pocket expenses will be astronomical based on just how long you are saying he will need treatments. We will cover the cost of his medical care up until this point, but after he is medically able to leave here, he will have to return to his home state of New York and receive treatments there, where he is already listed as pro bono, and the state does not have to absorb the out of pocket costs."

His obvious discomfort tells me he is just as unhappy that this child will have to be moved, but his tone is stern, he can't change the facts, and it angers me a bit. "So you are saying that you are going to return a 14-year-old cancer patient to a hospital that should be sued for neglect?" both case workers have wide eyes at this turn of events. "The government doesn't want to pay for a treatment that could save the life of a child who is more than ready to fight?"

I see puzzled looks on both case workers' faces as I pull up EJ's file on my computer, they don't understand why I am saying he was neglected. I turn the screen their way and move to sit on the edge on my desk. "I know you aren't doctors, so I will try to explain this in as simple of terms as possible. This," I pull up the scans EJ had brought me. "is a scan of EJ's brain from nearly three weeks ago." I zoom in a bit as I show them, "this white spot?"

When I get an affirmative nod that they are following along, I continue. "the white spot is EJ's brain tumor. It is a little harder to see, but the small gap of black space, right here?" I point to the edge between the tumor and the brain stem, "that is about 2 centimeters of separation from the tumor and the brain stem. I can understand why the tumor would've been deemed inoperable by the oncology team in New York, it is a very thin degree of separation and I only know of a handful of neurosurgeons in the world who would dare go anywhere near this tumor because of it. It's in a bad spot."

I see they are following along so I continue by swiping the scans to the set I took upon admitting EJ 5 days ago. "This set of scans is from 5 days ago, when EJ first arrived. Do you see a difference?"

I pause, but it's a minute or two before both are shaking their heads that no, there isn't a difference in the scans, at least not one that is noticeable to the naked eye.

"It's a trick question, because there isn't enough of a difference for me to determine that it has grown in the last three or so weeks."

"Why is that a problem then?" Ms. Keller speaks up. "Shouldn't it be a good sign that the tumor wasn't growing?"

"Typically yes, but the concern is best explained by the type of tumor EJ has. It is a Choroid Plexus Carcinoma, which is a very fancy way of saying a very rare and very deadly type of brain tumor, but I'm sure you have already been given this spiel by the doctors at New York Children's, Ms. Keller." She nods. "It is so deadly, Mr. Moreau, because these tumors move insanely fast. Many will go undetected until they are too late because the patient deteriorates very quickly and suddenly with these tumors."

Both case workers nod with wide eyes, even Ms. Keller looks shocked at this information. "With the size of the tumor, EJ should not have been symptom free for so long. He should have had all the hallmarks– malaise, fevers, vomiting, headaches, no appetite, probably even muscle weakness given where the tumor was pushing– and EJ would have known to look for these signs, but his foster parents should have been watching for them as well, because kids are a bit trickier. No kid who's been sick wants to go to the doctor, but EJ would've known and he wouldn't have been able to hide the symptoms for an extended period of time." When I see in their eyes that they are following along and coming to the correct conclusions, I continue. "In fact, the tumor should've grown to be inoperable from the time the 3 year scans were taken and the scans were taken here in Seattle."

"I'm still not understanding what the problem is, shouldn't this be a blessing?" Ms. Keller still looks very unsure.

"Normally yes, but the real problem is that given the size of the tumor and the projected rate of growth, there is no way EJ wasn't feeling the symptoms and there is no way that the tumor was not indicated on his last set of scans three months ago." I can see in Mr. Moreau's eyes that he has caught on but I spell it out for Ms. Keller.

"What I'm saying is, this reoccurrence should've been found three months ago. And either the scans were messed up– which as bad as that sounds, I hope was the case, because the alternative is that EJ's oncologist in New York essentially sentenced EJ to death by ignoring the obvious regrowth." Ms. Keller looks like she may cry as I explain to her.

"So," I almost feel bad for being so stern but I am EJ's only real advocate and his case feels like a joke with the way they are talking about it. "I will not be signing off for EJ to be transferred from Seattle Grace Mercy West to New York Children's because truthfully, they should be investigated for neglect, in fact the state should be suing them for damages and that case alone should be enough to cover EJ's medical costs, whether or not your boss says that experimental treatment should be pursued. EJ has a multi-million-dollar case if my suspicions are correct."

"Thank you for your explanations Dr. Shepherd." Mr. Moreau says as Ms. Keller sits stunned. "Could we borrow your office to make some calls to our superiors so we can figure out what needs to be done? I agree Emmerson should stay here for treatment, but we need to figure out the logistics. The only problem I can see would be payment, if we are able to pursue a lawsuit and criminal charges for negligence, it will take time and as you pointed out, Emmerson will need treatment to begin soon."

"Let me speak with my boss about making EJ a pro bono case, alright?" I ask and see them nod before beginning to make phone calls.

 ** _SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW_**

As I leave my office, Mr. Moreau sitting inside with Ms. Keller, both making calls, I see Owen walking quickly towards his office. I know this is my chance. "Owen," I call and he turns to face me. "I need two things."

"Oh yeah," I can tell by his face he doesn't want to deal with me but I know I need to deal with it now. "What's that?"

"First," I look down at my fingers which are twinning themselves together with nervousness. "I need to apologize. I don't want to hold a grudge against you any longer. You didn't know. You didn't know that the plane would go down, you didn't know Lexie and Mark would die, you didn't know that signing one form would make everything that happened in the last 10 months happen. So, I'm sorry, my anger is misplaced. I was chief once too, I know how you feel like you are drowning because there is so much that needs your attention. I get it, and I'm sorry."

Owen looks skeptical as he says, "You have every right to be angry. But I appreciate the apology, even if I'm not sure I deserve it."

"Water under the bridge?" I ask.

"Yeah, water under the bridge." He pauses and puts his hands on his hips as he asks, "Wat was the second thing?"

"Yeah, um so, I have a patient, a kid. He's 14 and he has relapsed stage 4 choroid plexus carcinoma. I just finished taking the tumor from his brain, and Karev will be taking the one from his abdomen after 2 rounds of chemotherapy."

"Okay, and what does this have to do with me?" his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

"I need you to list him as a pro bono case."

He seems guarded as he asks, "And why is that?"

"Because he's a foster kid and the state isn't willing to pay for his treatments."

"Wait. Wait, wait Shepherd, this kid, how long will he require treatment, what 18 months to 2 years?" I nod.

"And he'll need to stay here inpatient indefinitely because they won't try to place a sick kid" I nod along, silently telling him he's getting it right. "And he just had one massive brain surgery performed by you, without consulting with me, and he'll need at least one more." I nod, knowing what's coming.

"And you want me to list him as pro bono? Shepherd I can't do that; you know I can't it will drain our pro bono budget." He looks remorseful almost.

"Owen, yes I went ahead and did the removal of the brain tumor without consulting you because there was a very short window of time before the tumor would've really been inoperable and he would've died. As it is I got about 95% of the tumor and he's going to have to go through hell with radiation and maybe even physical therapies."

"Shepherd," he rubs his hand over his face, I can tell he's frustrated. "You are just listing more reasons why I can't make him pro bono, it's too costly."

He starts to walk off and I stop he quickly. "Owen, just, meet him okay? Just meet him before you make any decisions okay? When you meet this kid, you'll understand it. There's just something about him. Something special. He ran away from his foster home in New York to find me. He told me that the doctors in New York were giving up and he wasn't ready to stop trying. He ran away and came here, to me. He came because he believed in me. He believed I could do it."

"Look Shepherd," he takes a deep breath before he pushes his point. "It doesn't matter how much I like the kid, okay? I just can't foresee the board approving him for pro bono."

I nod as Owen gets paged and rushes off, feeling defeated.

 ** _SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW–SWIDW_**

"It doesn't look like we'll be able to list him as pro bono. Which means that doing the shotgun surgery might've been a waste of effort." I tell Alex as I flop down on the second chair in EJ's room.

"What do you mean?" Alex looks up from his charts to look me in the eye.

"I mean Owen said that because of how experimental and lengthily his treatment will be he can't see the board approving EJ as pro bono. And the social workers don't think they'll be able to figure out payments either." I flop back and rub my eyes, exhausted.

There's a beat of silence before Alex speaks up again. "What if we paid for it?"

"Come again Karev?" I ask, thinking I misheard him.

"Yeah," he sits forward and looks excited by his idea. "I mean Hunt did say that he wouldn't be able to get him approved for pro bono, but what if we pay his medical bills instead? I'm sure we both make more than we know what to do with and you have the settlement money. What if we pay for his treatments?"

I sit there for a while, thinking about it. It could work, we could pay. "I'd have to talk to Meredith first."

"Of course." Alex nods, smirking.

"I told the social workers they should sue New York Children's for negligence." I tell him.

"Settlement money might take a while to come through, but we can pay in the meantime. I'm sure there's some sort of loophole for us to figure it out. To be his doctors and be paying the bills I mean." Alex tells me.

"Yeah," I'm warming up more and more to the idea. "Yeah, okay we can make that work." I trail off as EJ's monitor catches my eyes. "Has he woken up yet?"

"No." Alex tells me, going back to charting.

I'm about to get up and leave when I see EJ's eyelids fluttering. "EJ?" I ask as I see the flutters become more defined. "Alex, I think he may be waking up now."

All of a sudden, I am met with the sight of EJ's vibrant blue eyes. I give a soft smile to him; he might just be out of the woods now.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry I went AWOL for so long. I got some bad news back in early February and I didn't feel like writing or being online or doing a whole lot of anything for a while. Anyways, I'm back now, and while I make zero promises about updates, I will promise not to go AWOL for so long again. Anyways, enjoy.**

 **–** **R**

 _When I think about dying, I think about more than just clouds and pearly gates and angels that hug me as I get there. I think about darkness and deafening silence and unbearable cold. I think about fire and nightmares and evil laughter. I think about more than just one possibility._

 _When I was in the hospital the first time, Dr. King made me talk about my feelings with a psychiatrist. He had told me his name was Ryan and he was there to help and all the other crap they normally tell kids in therapy. I never believed him, but I knew I had to play his game. I got bored with his feelings talk, so we discussed death a lot._

 _I had considered death briefly before I got sick, a flash in the back of my mind when my stomach felt like it was eating itself or when I was so cold I thought I would just die from hypothermia. But it was always that, brief, gone in the next moment like it had never been there before._

 _I remember the first time I really considered it for more than just a moment was when I was so sick I couldn't move. Mom had been gone for a while and had just left me on my own. She had done it before, but this time, I knew something was really wrong. I laid on the couch and contemplated what it would mean to be dead._

 _More than that however, I considered who would miss me if I was gone. And I came to the startling conclusion that no one really would. Mom was always more interested in everything but me, I didn't know my dad– mom had never told me his name, and I couldn't think of anyone at school or anywhere else, that would truly even notice I was gone._

 _Eventually, the police came and the super let them in and I was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. They thought I was malnourished and dying. Granted I was, but I remember crystal clear, that was the night I embraced death rather than shrunk back in fear from it._

 _It was surreal, but the idea of death comforted me in those days, and still does sometimes. I never would wish to die, not anymore, but it was calming to know that if I did die, it couldn't get much worse._

 _Death holds this mystic power. It is something we innately fear, but it is comforting and provides this surreal sense of relief. But I guess until you are looking death in the eye, and able to truly stare it down, you can't really find peace in it._

The first sounds that enter my conscious are incessant beeping. Then, as I am able to come further out of the fog my brain seems to be clouded in, I hear the measured sounds of a ventilator. It takes me a while to place why I'm hearing the hiss of oxygen pressing in and out, and the sound of Dr. Shepherd's voice helps to guide me further in the right direction.

"EJ, I need you to stay calm. I need you to be awake before I can take the tube out. I know it's uncomfortable and you don't like it." I hear him moving around and I can feel what I guess is his hand holding mine.

I peel my eyes open to see Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Karev standing above me. I blink a few times to pull them into focus. And the first thing I see is the smiles on their faces, it almost looks like their grins will break their faces. It's nice to know I'm not alone.

I blink a bunch to clear the fuzziness and some of it remains but it clears a good bit. Now that my eyes are open I can see that the pressure in my chest is the result of the ventilator down my throat. I can feel my eyes widen in fear and I guess I go as white as a sheet as Dr. Karev starts explaining.

"The ventilator was just a precaution. We need you to be a bit more awake and alert before we can take it out, okay? So, I need you to stay calm for me. No panicking, okay?"

I want to respond that yes, I understand, but I can't and I guess Dr. Shepherd picks up on this. "Blink once for yes, twice for no." I blink once really hard.

"Good," Dr. Shepherd smiles and turns to make a motion at the door. I still feel so confused and unsure about what in the world is going on. "EJ, we are going to be taking out the tube now. It's going to be very uncomfortable but it will be worse if we leave it in. Are you ready?"

I blink once for yes.

SWIDW~SWIDW~SWIDW

"EJ, I'm so glad you're okay!" I look up to see Ms. Keller, my social worker, and I'm more than a bit disappointed. I'm definitely not her biggest fan.

Social workers are an interesting hybrid of caring and too busy that results in an advocate who is overly joyful to see you but who will disappear for long stretches of time between visits.

Ms. Keller is her own special kind of advocate. If social workers are from mars, Ms. Keller is from Venus. She means well but she's too cheerful from my tastes.

When I first met her, of course I didn't think much of her. I was a scared 5-year-old who thought I just needed to say the truth and then I'd get to go home. She reminded me a lot of my teacher at the time who's name I no longer recall. Ms. Keller was overly joyful and wore too bright colors and spoke way too condescendingly. She really was the cliché of a kindergarten teacher with the irony being I don't think she would've lasted five minutes as a kindergarten teacher- it would've been far too messy and with way too many kids running around.

"I was worried sick when your foster parents called to say you'd gone missing! I told them not my Emerson!" I hate that she calls be by that, I've told her a million times I prefer EJ and if she didn't want to use that, I'd go by my middle name- James.

I don't know what the heck my mom was thinking when she named me Emerson. For starters, it's a great way to get made fun of in school. And then there are only two nicknames you can get out of it- Emmy, which is a girl's name, and Sonny, which reminds me way too much of a grandpa calling you Sonny because he can't actually remember your name.

I have always gone by my initials, but I wouldn't mind going by James either- it has a nice ring to it. Whenever I would imagine myself living with the Weskits permanently, like being adopted by them, I always imagined changing my name and becoming James Weskit. I always felt like the Major would be proud to introduce us and say, 'these are my four sons- Henry, Peter, James and Nathan'. I would imagine us going to fancy dinner parties when the Major was transferred to D.C. like Henry always insisted would happen, and I imagined us lined up and being introduced to important people– people like the president. James was far more normal and I always thought that having a normal name would help me fit in with them. I thought that having a normal name would make the Weskits want to keep me.

One other thing I despise about Ms. Keller is that she rambles in a high-pitched voice, and more often than not, she forgets that she's not supposed to be delivering a monologue but having a conversation.

I have the nurse call button in my grasp from when Dr. Shepherd had to rush off and handed it to me, in case I needed anything. Of course, I know the drill with major brain surgery- don't get up on your own, sleep a lot, no solid foods for a while, but I let him give the spiel anyways because talking felt like an Olympic sport– still does as my brain swims with Ms. Keller's voice. So, I push hard on the button and wait for a nurse to show up.

"What were you thinking young man? You ditched school and what, hitch-hiked across the country? Are you insane?"

I try to protest that I'm not stupid, that I actually had money saved up and was smart about it. I want to tell her that I took the train into the city and then took the Amtrak to Chicago before I stopped for a day and then rode a greyhound to Seattle and the metro to the hospital. But I can't make my mouth form the words and I can't even lift my arm enough to signal her to stop.

Instead, I am beyond grateful when one of the doctors walks in and I can at least widen my eyes enough to show that I could use some help getting Ms. Keller to leave me alone. Luckily this doctor is pretty smart.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Wilson and I'm one of EJ's doctors." The woman sticks her hand out to shake Ms. Keller's and I smile just a bit at her bewildered expression at being cut off. "And I'm actually going to have to ask you to step out so I can run some tests with EJ."

Ms. Keller leaves, grumbling about how she's supposed to be in charge and a bunch of other stuff I can't hear. I want to tell Dr. Wilson thank you, but I can't find the energy to form the words so I just smile at her.

"How are you feeling EJ?" she asks as she steps up to me and begins fiddling with the monitors and my IVs. When I don't respond, she looks down at me and smiles a bit. "too tired to talk?" I nod a small bit and she smiles wider. "alright, I'll just run a couple quick tests then and then we'll get you comfy and set for a nap, sound good?" I nod a bit again and her smile grows again.

SWIDW~SWIDW~SWIDW

"Have a good nap EJ?" I blink a few times to bring Dr. Shepherd into focus and smile. "Still having trouble speaking?"

I give a small nod as my muscles are too weak for much else. The nod knocks my nasal cannula loose and Dr. Shepherd reaches to adjust it back on my face.

"Don't worry, that was expected. We'll get you back to fighting strength in the next few days. Right now, its key that you rest. Are you in any pain?" Dr. Shepherd asks and I give two shorter blinks to signal that no, I'm not in pain, rather than nod and knock the cannula out again.

I want to tell him that being awake requires herculean efforts and that everything feels like way too much work but I can't so I just settle for letting him know I'm not in pain.

"Good." Dr. Shepherd types something on the iPad in his hands and then looks up at me. "There's some people who would like to see you. You think you can handle a few visitors?"

I blink once knowing that I won't be awake for too long, and knowing Dr. Shepherd will kick whoever it is out before they completely exhaust me.

"Alright," Dr. Shepherd steps to the door and speaks to someone in the hall, "EJ is awake if you guys want to come say hi for a few minutes."

I can't hear what the visitors say, but Dr. Shepherd steps back some and I see them– Major Weskit and Mrs. Weskit, both teary-eyed and approaching slowly.

"Oh EJ, you had us so worried." Mrs. Weskit rushes up to me and grips my right hand very tightly, as she speaks. "When you didn't come home from school we were so worried." She looks to the Major, who stands to my left, as she continues with, "And then we saw the messages on the machine from the school and we didn't know what to think."

Mrs. Weskit's eyes get too teary and she takes her hand back so she can cover her sobs up some. I hear the Major's deep baritone voice speaking over her sobs. "Karen, it's alright. He's ok." The Major walks to Mrs. Weskit and holds her tight. I can't decide if he's angry at me or relieved to see I'm okay with his own two eyes. "What can you tell us doc?" His hard gaze moves from me to Dr. Shepherd. He can be quite intimidating when he wants to be.

Dr. Shepherd steps forward and begins explaining in a strong voice, obviously not fazed by the Major's harsh gaze and strict voice. "EJ's type of cancer is highly aggressive, as I'm sure you are both aware," his voice is just as strong as the Major's. "When he got here, he presented with a large mass on his brain. It was crucial that we remove it right away. We were successful in getting all of the tumor with clean margins."

This is the first time I have heard about the success of the surgery and there is the faintest of smiles creeping on my face at his words. I know that no matter how mad the Weskits are at me for running away, I will never regret it because of the genuine happiness I feel at the prospect of the brain tumor being eradicated by the infamous neurosurgeon Dr. Derek Shepherd.

"EJ still has a long recovery ahead of him but I am optimistic. He has already proven that he is a fighter. The next step will be two rounds of chemotherapy and radiation for a month before we do surgery to remove the masses in his abdomen and on his spine."

The gasp that comes from Mrs. Weskit is loud and painful to hear. I never wanted to hurt this sweet woman who took such great care of me. What's more shocking however is the tears I see drip from the Major's eyes at the prospect of the cancer being so advanced. I never thought Major Weskit was capable of crying, much less that the prospect of his foster son being sick would be the reason. I always thought he saw my sickness as a nuisance. Maybe that's why I ran away. Maybe it's just because I'm scared that they won't keep me and I can't take another rejection. I just want to protect myself from the pain that occurs when I think of being abandoned and cast aside yet again.

My eyes begin to droop as I try to keep listening to Dr. Shepherd's plan for me. I want to know the game plan, it makes me less nervous to know what's happening. But my blinks end up elongating as the exhaustion overwhelms me. The last thing I hear as I shut my eyes for longer and let sleep engulf me is Dr. Shepherd suggesting they speak in the hallway to let me rest while Mrs. Weskit tries to hold in her cries. I want to tell her I'm okay, that I'll be okay, but I decide that can wait for later.


	8. Author Note

Hi everyone!

Sorry to disappoint that this isn't a chapter. And sorry I went AWOL for so long! Life got pretty crazy, and then Uni started back up and I sorta lost all free time. Good news is, my finals wrap up in two weeks, and then I'm going on a massive writing spree and will have more soon! So, hang tight, and I swear I'll be back soon.

–R


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